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A review by raskol
Love in the Ruins by Walker Percy
1.0
Capsule Review: Don't Read Walker Percy. Ever.
Longer Review: If somebody recommends this book (or any other of his books) to you, rest assured that that he will one day soon try to convince you that the Eagles really are rock n' roll. Afterwards, he will probably inflict some of his "poetry" on you. You know the kind of stuff I mean: four-line stanzas in ABAB that will inevitably rhyme the words "pain" with "insane," "soul" with "hole," "heart" with "apart," and "feel" with "unreal." Luckily, though, you will see this coming, and as soon as your friend/lover/spouse/relative/coworker/mutual or new acquaintance/etc. recommends this author to you, you can immediately make the decision forever to exclude him (or her) from your literary life. That's right: whenever he mentions some book he read, change the subject. Talk about the weather; fake a seizure, if necessary. For example, say your boss, Mr. When-I'm-in-My-Car-I-Rock-Out-to-The Best of Sting, has previously recommended to you a novel written by one Walker Percy (thus alerting you that all of his taste is in his mouth). Your boss then approaches you one morning and says, "Hey, Suzy, how are you? You know, I was rereading Anne Rice this weekend, and I thought of you, because, you know, you can read, and I thought you might enjoy it." At this point, casually announce that the sun has given you cancer and you no longer have time to read before you die. Watch him shut up.
(And yes, I've posted the exact same review for all the Walker Percy books I've been unfortunate enough to read. Percy's works aren't worth more than one original review. Besides, if you've read one of his books, you've read them all.)
Longer Review: If somebody recommends this book (or any other of his books) to you, rest assured that that he will one day soon try to convince you that the Eagles really are rock n' roll. Afterwards, he will probably inflict some of his "poetry" on you. You know the kind of stuff I mean: four-line stanzas in ABAB that will inevitably rhyme the words "pain" with "insane," "soul" with "hole," "heart" with "apart," and "feel" with "unreal." Luckily, though, you will see this coming, and as soon as your friend/lover/spouse/relative/coworker/mutual or new acquaintance/etc. recommends this author to you, you can immediately make the decision forever to exclude him (or her) from your literary life. That's right: whenever he mentions some book he read, change the subject. Talk about the weather; fake a seizure, if necessary. For example, say your boss, Mr. When-I'm-in-My-Car-I-Rock-Out-to-The Best of Sting, has previously recommended to you a novel written by one Walker Percy (thus alerting you that all of his taste is in his mouth). Your boss then approaches you one morning and says, "Hey, Suzy, how are you? You know, I was rereading Anne Rice this weekend, and I thought of you, because, you know, you can read, and I thought you might enjoy it." At this point, casually announce that the sun has given you cancer and you no longer have time to read before you die. Watch him shut up.
(And yes, I've posted the exact same review for all the Walker Percy books I've been unfortunate enough to read. Percy's works aren't worth more than one original review. Besides, if you've read one of his books, you've read them all.)