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A review by allegedly_miri
Wolf in White Van by John Darnielle
2.0
I’ve owned this book since it first came out and never really committed to finishing it. Decided to change that today and read it all in one go, after years of loving TMG and liking the look of Darnielle’s new book… and it really wasn’t for me.
I felt like the book was trying to do something, trying to subvert something, trying to say something without SAYING it and to be so artfully clever. But it just fell short of offering up any substance. Which was sort of the point, but it feels unrewarding and empty. Which was also sort of the point. I don’t know.
The essence of the book seems to be that we don’t always have reasons for things. The character hates mystery novels, and the mystery set up at the start by the existence of Sean in his current form turns out to be unsolvable and without closure. All others are red-herrings, or what he would call “side quests”. It’s a good point, especially given the mental health bent, but it didn’t make for enjoyable reading. It was frustrating and never quite gave me what I wanted. It felt like reading snippets from someone’s diary that they’d given up on by March.
In short, I wanted to like it but didn’t. And finishing the book left me with nothing more than I had when I started it.
I felt like the book was trying to do something, trying to subvert something, trying to say something without SAYING it and to be so artfully clever. But it just fell short of offering up any substance. Which was sort of the point, but it feels unrewarding and empty. Which was also sort of the point. I don’t know.
The essence of the book seems to be that we don’t always have reasons for things. The character hates mystery novels, and the mystery set up at the start by the existence of Sean in his current form turns out to be unsolvable and without closure. All others are red-herrings, or what he would call “side quests”. It’s a good point, especially given the mental health bent, but it didn’t make for enjoyable reading. It was frustrating and never quite gave me what I wanted. It felt like reading snippets from someone’s diary that they’d given up on by March.
In short, I wanted to like it but didn’t. And finishing the book left me with nothing more than I had when I started it.