An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England Book

You know, I really considered giving up on this about sixty pages in, and I probably should have; it never got any better. It was just so un-compelling. And the main character was really unlikeable, which drives me nuts. It reminded me of A Confederacy of Dunces, which I don't remember much but definitely remember hating; this had the same kind of bumbling, not-very-smart protagonist who just doesn't seem to get why bad things keep happening to him. He was so whiny and stupid and boring. Why should I go on a three-hundred-page journey with someone I can't stand?

The other thing that drove me absolutely crazy about this book was that the narrative kept doubling over on itself, like in the middle of describing some kind of action or reaction, it would start to discuss broader ideas and concepts, like "For those of us who've lost it, love is also the thing that makes us speak in aphorisms about love, which is why we try to get love back, so we can stop speaking that way. Aphoristically, that is." What? That's both convoluted and incredibly insipid. There were all these "realizations" or like comments on the human condition or something, which were uninspired and uninteresting and really just served to distract me from the uninspired and uninteresting plot. It reminded me, strangely, of one of my most favorite books ever, Daniel Handler's Adverbs , where he does a similar kind of thing, but with achingly beautiful metaphors, and with ideas that are thrilling and original and wonderful and sad. Brock Clarke is no Daniel Handler, is what I'm trying to say.

And speaking of the writing? Ugh. Here is a convolutedly stupid metaphor, which happens right after our, uh, "hero" has relieved himself after needing to pee for a long time, and someone has just told him that he doesn't have any money. Says our "hero": "I empathized: his lack of money weighed heavily on him and he needed relief from it, his poverty being to his vessel what my pee had just been to mine." Ew. Idiotic.

Here's one more quote, which combines bad writing with bad allusions with bad ideas: "I know nothing about her, not even her name, although I think about her all the time, the way you do about people and things which change your life forever -- although I doubt she thinks about me, which is the way life works, which is why I'm sure Noah couldn't ever stop thinking about his Flood, but once the water receded, I'm sure it didn't once think about him." What? Monumentally stupid. Just like this whole monumentally stupid book.