Skinny Dipping Into Books
I like the rain. I want to have a spring bookworming rain party full out with wellies—but not those Hunter Boots; absolutely not—, with yummy airy things like puffed pastries, meringues, mini fluffy cheese cakes, mousse dessert, macaroon, biscuits, crepe, and Earl Grey tea, definitely Earl Grey tea. and Tillandsia. We'd have lots of "air plants". Lots! And We'd read, but not anything structured. We'd bring books, trade books, read out-loud, pass books around between sentences and paragraphs. We'd leave with books we hadn't discovered.
I like books like I like my Jazz; euphoric, dangerous, occasionally a bit manic, sorrowful, bleak, raging, mood-incongruent, mournful, unforgivingly ragged, symbolic in a quiet way, warm apple pie for the soul. Give me a Plath style. Yōko Ogawa, M. Roach,
Criteria: Not rated on likability of characters. Not objective. I like Moxie Soda; chances are you don't.
time spent in that before bed reading slot:
5-until blurry eye 4-Later than I intended, but I still kept to my extended, extended reading time 3-I really should have been to bed an hour ago 2-customary 30 minutes. 1-book. side table. eyes closed.
How are common themes handled?
5-With an aesthetic that repurposes everyday themes into something fresh. Think of Hole Celebrity Skin covered by Cat Power 4-there is a comfortable air of familiarly.
3-Deja Vu 2. No deviation from its mates 1. Devastatingly trite, redundant, and stale.
Where would you keep it post-reading?
5-Next to my bed. 4-it's the center piece of my favorite bookshelf 3. On my other favorite bookshelf, but it's a bit dusty over their 2-Great cheap bookends 1-It never made it out of the box marked 'moving'.
Emotional response-
5- Where is my teddy bear? Emotional-hangover 4- If I wasn't so emotionally stunted I'd cry.
3. Did James Cameron co-wrote this? Artfully contrived.
2- calculative emotional manipulation. This was literally written by James Cameron.1- I…feel…..nothing.
Mechanics (plot structure, voice, presentation, word choice, sentence structure, characters, writing style, pacing, and consistency):
5-Chanel 4-Prada 3-J-Crew 2-Gap 1-Old Navy
amazing... brilliant demonstration of bipolar disorder
"ONCE I WAS MUSIC, NOW I AM JUST NOISE"
Re-read and reassessed. you get a perfect five as my prejudice and initial qualms are sidelined.
So there is this book. you just finished it. it leaves you nervous. you realize in the back of your head that you connect to it; connect to it too much. It buzzes inside you like the bees in Greyson's chest, because, after all you can totally relate.
But you read it quietly, even though it put you on edge.... puts a wedge between you and yourself and the real world; an uneasiness. I mean, you know, you realize. you just had your 'jody fosteresque Golden Globes coming out' (albeit a totally anticlimactic and no where related to being gay). with your own psychiatrist. Hug the Ativan bottle like it's your last and only coping mechanism. Deep Breath. Read on.
If you can relate to any of the above mentioned words, read with caution, Dear Reader.
Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See, even though not perfect (by any stretch) has the capacity to pull the rug out from under you; and in an unforgiving, ragged push and yank sort of way. It has the capacity to—no it will, if you are susceptible to it—tear your weak coping mechanisms apart. Various writings have had this effect, but no where near this level. The Bell Jar, the wind up bird chronicle, fault in our stars, and perhaps—in a totally different way— the room. this is visceral . The only physical feeling i can compare this to is a cold, below zero new england night. stepping outside... taking your first breath. your lungs immediately tighten, your chest contracts, and your teeth chatter. Holding your breath for five seconds, you think foolishly that you can retain some splinter of warmth. you exhale much to quickly; your breath turning to ice crystals around your lips and scarf. This moment, the exhale, perfectly describe the effect this book had on me.
THE NARRATIVE!!!! Greyson's was insightful, realistic, delicate, dramatic, harsh, ridged, shallow, triumphant, etc etc. The realness to his experiences (via his own internal dialog and interpretation) was outstanding. sure many of those experiences seemed a bit unbelievable (also broached later in this review), but maybe it was his challenges, his 'illness' that twisted the reality of these events. His narrative was reliable and transcendent. There is a rawness about the sentence structure, a fracturing of sentences that echos Eggers and corresponds to the dread and instability experienced by Greyson. There is a certain flatness and conciseness that resembles i never promised you a rose garden, and a poetry of The God of Small Things, or perhaps more appropriately Lithium for Medea: A Novel.
The story line is one of many separate mini-series.
1. Life growing up
2. life before life becomes disjointed
3. Full blown manic and depressive episodes for three years (where life becomes unrecognizable)
4. crash, burn, explosion..... resulting in shock therapy.
5. recovery and reconstituting his life.
But there are all these split off story-lines. stories within min-series........within episodes...
there is the integration of one's early exposure to bipolar disorder with greyson's current life.
The shuttering realization that life exists beyond your own life.
the meaningfulness of recovery, to you, yourself, and... others.
admitting that, once you fall to far from something, it may be impossible to climb back up.
Then, of course, commercials ; the seam that holds each of the above mentioned units together:
then, to keep up with our little theme we have going here, there are the commercials. these take place in the form of Greyson's hope that he will retain his memory while undergoing treatment, and the frantic force with which he attempts to horde them. this is some scary shit people.
best part. no Hollywood perfect ending here.
quotes:
"eventually you are nothing more than a suit, a car, and a business card."
"I hate that her headstone has a year on it when she was born and another when she died but only a dash for the life she lived in between".
Greyson, you are very lucky. Not everyone can feel things as deeply as you. Most people, their feelings are bland, tasteless. They'll never understand what it's like to read a poem and feel almost like they're flying, or see a bleeding fish and feel grief that shatters their heart. It's not a weakness, Grey. It’s what I love about you most.
"pigeons soar and dive overhead, disturbing the phantasmagoric comic stripe told in stain glass"
"but i dont care because i am undergoing single malt baptism".
"dancing across my eyelids: faint blue veins on pale skin. black sky breaks open, dumping yellow stars. counting. wishing. the soft flannel of her good-night"