light

Shoplifting from American Apparel by Tao Lin, book three for the year...

i didn't find it depressing, nor bleak in that ugly sort of way that grunge novels are. it was touching - detached but not unemotional - it was that disconnected replaying of events in a small, moment by moment, and spacious sort of way. i like Tao Lin's poetry a little bit more, and his shorter, surreal stories more too... they are gentler still and rougher edged. this was slow, and boring, but in a wonderful way. in a strangely joyous way. i don't know if that was intended. i found it hopeful. it wasn't that the characters were unpleasant, or unemotional - the writing was distant, but not without being touching. it was that lack of assurance of how anyone is supposed to feel, or how you are supposed to manage your feelings or understand your feelings or move within your feelings.

i liked it a lot.

it was especially interesting given that i'd just read Slaughterhouse Five. it was a strange feeling to be placing something as monumental as war next to the monumental ennui of that quiet despair of inner city suburban apathy, where you are everywhere and going nowhere all at once. you see madness and strength and vivid colours in Slaughterhouse Five, while Shoplifting fades from one space to another, like sap down a tree.