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briandice's review
4.0
This is a perfect example of imperfect readers, not books. When I read this earlier this year I had no idea that the bizarro genre of contemporary literature fiction even existed. Without filters, I was worthless to read this book.
Thanks to meeting GR friend Arthur Graham this year and learning under his tutelage, I now have some bizarro under my belt. And having now re-read this book, I owe Mr. Sands an apology. Forgive me, good sir, for I am a work-in-progress reader, trying to get better, one book at a time. This book is an awesome addition to the genre.
I won't delete my original review below, because I don't want to forget my ignorant cheekiness, and I want to remind the future me to be very clear why a book doesn't work for me.
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Original review, January 30, 2013
After the staggering (in a good way) experience with [b:Mourning Diary|8158959|Mourning Diary|Roland Barthes|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1312042559s/8158959.jpg|13000950], and wanting to take a break from the heady tomes from the likes of Proust and Schulz, I made the mistake of picking up the wrong book for some light reading. Its intended satire, parodic retelling of the Arthurian legend, and overall zaniness was lost on me. Am I getting too old? Perhaps. And it could also be that my palate just wasn't ready for the jarring effects of Mr. Sands' prose. For example, here's a sampling of sentences read before picking up "TV Snorted My Brain":
Proust: Whether it is that the faith which creates has dried up in me, or that reality takes shape in memory alone, the flowers I am shown today for the first time do not seem to me to be real flowers.
Schulz: It is strange how old interiors reflect their dark turbulent past, how in their stillness bygone history tries to be reenacted, how the same situations repeat themselves with infinite variations, turned upside down and inside out by the fruitless dialectic of wallpapers and hangings.
And then Mr. Sands, if you please, on page 7 of his book:
Sands: The mother of a girl who my little sister anally penetrated put a broken beer bottle through my real dad's brain.
Yes, I did finish the entire book. And now, back to our regularly scheduled program.
Thanks to meeting GR friend Arthur Graham this year and learning under his tutelage, I now have some bizarro under my belt. And having now re-read this book, I owe Mr. Sands an apology. Forgive me, good sir, for I am a work-in-progress reader, trying to get better, one book at a time. This book is an awesome addition to the genre.
I won't delete my original review below, because I don't want to forget my ignorant cheekiness, and I want to remind the future me to be very clear why a book doesn't work for me.
-------------------------------------
Original review, January 30, 2013
After the staggering (in a good way) experience with [b:Mourning Diary|8158959|Mourning Diary|Roland Barthes|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1312042559s/8158959.jpg|13000950], and wanting to take a break from the heady tomes from the likes of Proust and Schulz, I made the mistake of picking up the wrong book for some light reading. Its intended satire, parodic retelling of the Arthurian legend, and overall zaniness was lost on me. Am I getting too old? Perhaps. And it could also be that my palate just wasn't ready for the jarring effects of Mr. Sands' prose. For example, here's a sampling of sentences read before picking up "TV Snorted My Brain":
Proust: Whether it is that the faith which creates has dried up in me, or that reality takes shape in memory alone, the flowers I am shown today for the first time do not seem to me to be real flowers.
Schulz: It is strange how old interiors reflect their dark turbulent past, how in their stillness bygone history tries to be reenacted, how the same situations repeat themselves with infinite variations, turned upside down and inside out by the fruitless dialectic of wallpapers and hangings.
And then Mr. Sands, if you please, on page 7 of his book:
Sands: The mother of a girl who my little sister anally penetrated put a broken beer bottle through my real dad's brain.
Yes, I did finish the entire book. And now, back to our regularly scheduled program.
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