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A review by flicker_black
Slow Days, Fast Company. The World, the Flesh, and L.A. by Eve Babitz
funny
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.5
If you're a fan of "Everything I know about Love" by Dolly Alderton and "Just Kids" by Patti Smith, you'd probably love it as it has the gossip, some observations and some more gossip where lives of some inner lives of indie celebrities are revealed.
I did like some parts, the writing was certainly rich, although it got a bit boring and repetitive in between, here is an example of passage that I liked, which ends in a trademark seemingly unrelated remark :
"I felt myself fading into the background and let their voices wash over me, well aware of my place in this traditional back-street romance. There was plenty of time to worry about who was taking advantage of whom in the war between men and women or the future of the country or any of that. I felt The Last American’s hand reach under the table and come to rest someplace just above my knee, and I suddenly thought how fortunate it was that I hadn’t had my car washed that afternoon."
To point out which I didn't particularly like this book, here is a passage which literally meant nothing to me since I was neither aware of the names or places or culture references being discussed :
"And then when the local rock and roll group took limousines to hidden spots in Joshua Tree and sat drinking Tequila Sunrises at dawn posing for their album cover blasted on peyote, I shrugged. That week in Taos had been quite enough of ethnic purity for me. I hated turquoise and cactus and leathery-skinned Indians wrapped in pastel flannel plaid blankets from J. C. Penney’s. Let people from New York and Detroit adore Indians and load themselves with squash blossoms and weaving and be what Alec Guinness, as Prince Faisal, accused O’Toole of being in Lawrence of Arabia when Guinness narrows his eyes and assumes a grave and ironic attitude: “I fear you are a desert-loving Englishman, Mr. Lawrence. No Arab loves the desert; we love cool trees and green grass. Are you, Mr. Lawrence, a desert-loving Englishman?”
The author herself said it the best when she said "(If you’re wondering why I was tossing my friends at Nikki like fish, you’re probably a person who has no tendency for society and who does not like to spend hours on the phone reliving parties." And she was spot on with it, I just am not that kind of reader that would read this kind of book and yet it wasn't a bad book at all.
2.6/5 stars.
I did like some parts, the writing was certainly rich, although it got a bit boring and repetitive in between, here is an example of passage that I liked, which ends in a trademark seemingly unrelated remark :
"I felt myself fading into the background and let their voices wash over me, well aware of my place in this traditional back-street romance. There was plenty of time to worry about who was taking advantage of whom in the war between men and women or the future of the country or any of that. I felt The Last American’s hand reach under the table and come to rest someplace just above my knee, and I suddenly thought how fortunate it was that I hadn’t had my car washed that afternoon."
To point out which I didn't particularly like this book, here is a passage which literally meant nothing to me since I was neither aware of the names or places or culture references being discussed :
"And then when the local rock and roll group took limousines to hidden spots in Joshua Tree and sat drinking Tequila Sunrises at dawn posing for their album cover blasted on peyote, I shrugged. That week in Taos had been quite enough of ethnic purity for me. I hated turquoise and cactus and leathery-skinned Indians wrapped in pastel flannel plaid blankets from J. C. Penney’s. Let people from New York and Detroit adore Indians and load themselves with squash blossoms and weaving and be what Alec Guinness, as Prince Faisal, accused O’Toole of being in Lawrence of Arabia when Guinness narrows his eyes and assumes a grave and ironic attitude: “I fear you are a desert-loving Englishman, Mr. Lawrence. No Arab loves the desert; we love cool trees and green grass. Are you, Mr. Lawrence, a desert-loving Englishman?”
The author herself said it the best when she said "(If you’re wondering why I was tossing my friends at Nikki like fish, you’re probably a person who has no tendency for society and who does not like to spend hours on the phone reliving parties." And she was spot on with it, I just am not that kind of reader that would read this kind of book and yet it wasn't a bad book at all.
2.6/5 stars.