Michael Chabon, “Wonder Boys”
I can’t figure out if I like Michael Chabon or not. That’s something I should be able to make a judgment call on, as this is the third book I’ve read by him. I know I don’t not like him, but I just don’t really care. Reading Chabon is like reading a semi-interesting article in a waiting room. You read because there’s nothing else to do. Though I did and do have other things to do, hence why it took me so long to finish this book.
And the book is pretty damn long considering it’s not all that engaging. It has enough moments that are clever or funny so I didn’t get annoyed while I was reading. But I couldn’t help notice the parallel with the main character, a Salinger-type author who had a hit but hasn’t presented a follow up. He struggles with the book’s verbosity. Along the way, one of his students, who happen to live in his house, and who he happens to have a crush on, reads through the entire book. He asks her for her opinion.
“It starts out great, Grady. Really great. For the first two hundred pages or so I was loving it.” [...] “But then—I don’t know.” [...] “Well, then it starts—I mean parts of it are still wonderful, amazing, but after a while it just starts—I don’t know—it gets all spread out.” [...] “Okay, not spread out, then, but jammed too full.”
Her critique of the book goes on for another half page before she finally lets out an outburst.
“Grady,” she says, “You have whole chapters that go for thirty and forty pages with no characters at all!”
Actually, I feel like she’s explained this book, which just happens to be the author’s second novel. The difference is, this book got published. I could go on and on about this, and you’d probably continue to read the review. But really, isn’t there something you’d rather be doing right now?
And yes, I’m a little disappointed with the review as well, so ease off on the hate mail. Oh, I know — just like Chabon occasionally throws some sex into the works to keep you reading, I can do the same.
Seems I’ve joined the illustrious world of the player again, according to some. I didn’t know my sex life was so interesting to others, especially since there isn’t much to talk about lately. And unfortunately. Perhaps I’ve reached celebrity status, and people just want to gossip incessantly. Now I feel like Jennifer Lopez, and not because my butt’s too big.
