by Richard Brautigan
I have lowered my previous ranking of four stars down to three. I did like it, but the book is much darker than I originally remembered it being and nothing I would want to ever return again to reading in my older age. Richard Brautigan was certainly a unique character and I am glad the Haight had h...
In the past few years when I hear US indie bands with male singers, it strikes me how boyish many of their voices are. I wonder if this is just an indie thing. Take Jeff Tweedy and Ben Folds - they often sound like teenage boys, whether dreamy teenage boys or angry ones. Since I haven't lived in Ame...
3.5 stars
1/2012 This one is a touchstone for me, and I'm not sure exactly why. Perhaps because it is so very gentle, so loving, so open. Ostensibly, it's a few days in a commune in some mythical world that used to have beautiful, man-eating, talking tigers. A world where everything is made from watermelon su...
I read this little tale in one sitting. It is unusual; I'm not sure what to make of it. A fantasy utopia, a reflection on gentleness. Would you get bored in a life with no violence at all? Is there such a thing as death without violence? Some of the people who live at iDEATH are a bit restless; but ...
I found this an enjoyable read...until it's abrupt ending left me asking "huh"?
This is a post-apocalyptic tale for lovers of the poetic and surreal. The unnamed narrator lives in iDeath, a commune of sorts, still recovering from the time of the tigers. (In which the narrator was orphaned.)It's filled with lovely lyrical passages, snatches of humor, and a sadness that is guar...
I read this twice about 7-10 years apart, the second time trying desperately to see what I'd missed the first time and why the guy who recommended it to me said it was the only book that made him weep. We broke up shortly after that for unrelated reasons, although maybe he saw me as like Margaret or...
Un-rateable. Saw this on a list, wanted to add my two cents. I read this, probably - hmmmm.... 1981? Weird, strange, experimental in the way that all things were in 1968. Or maybe just a piece of hallucinogen-induced, self-indulgent crap. You decide.
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