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brenden_odonnell 's review for:
The Moviegoer
by Walker Percy
This novel mourns the unsustainability and peculiarity of the life of Binx, the narrator, who lives as a ridiculously rich stockbroker and a romantic who likes to think about stuff. I can't imagine why this would be a problem worth thinking about, and yet, for 242 pages, I was totally immersed in it. Binx's cruel disregard and selfishness, are, I suppose are meant to articulate a symptom of his peculiar double-life. Cue some kind of existential sympathy. But I just felt like I was in claustrophobic proximity with a sociopath. The novel certainly intends a claustrophobic feeling, but it's intended to allow us to sympathize with Binx. Far from sympathy, proximity to Binx's oblivious, privileged mournfulness alienated him from me.
It was like reading Lolita while being expected to sympathize with Humbert Humbert: ubless you're a pedophile, the novel doesn't really do much for you. With the Moviegoer, I'm not a straight, white male who thinks that his life is falling apart because he has a brain that works. So this novel doesn't really do much for me.
It was like reading Lolita while being expected to sympathize with Humbert Humbert: ubless you're a pedophile, the novel doesn't really do much for you. With the Moviegoer, I'm not a straight, white male who thinks that his life is falling apart because he has a brain that works. So this novel doesn't really do much for me.