A few alternate titles: "Why is Mailer famous?" "Why does this book suck so much?" "Why am I reading this?"
Mailer's 1967 book is one of his most experimental and one of his worst (which is saying something), written in a druggy, vulgar, overflowing style that is a bad trip mix of the Beats (Burroughs influence is clear) , the New Journalism, and underground hipster slang. Apparently it was written without an editor or a revision. It's all hyper-masculine fightin' & pissin' & screwin' & huntin', with a weird anal fixation (make that your drinking game). A character's consciousness is described as "the brackish backwaters of a sluggish narrative," which sum this up perfectly. None of this takes place in Vietnam, btw. So terrible that you almost have to respect it.
There are no ages for this title yet.
There are no summaries for this title yet.
There are no notices for this title yet.
There are no quotes for this title yet.