Wanting to like this book, because I like his writing on music and pop culture (Sex, Death and Cocoa Puffs, IV) I tried to overlook the flaws in this book, but by the time the ending comes (slapped on) my patience had waned. Klosterman can write a good piece on a Guns'N'Roses cover band or Latinos who love Morrissey, but his journalistic/ironic detachment isn't suited to creating characters the reader needs to care about, or at least be mildly interested in, especially given the ending. There are moments when the divergences into pop culture and commentary achieve a level of near brilliance, but this novel would have worked better as a faux-memoir or having Klosterman embedded in a small North Dakota town an report from the ground.
No comments:
Post a Comment