The satire is dark and grating, but never actually got me laughing. Vernon's character is well constructed and full of age-appropriate naive fantasies about escaping to Mexico with the hot girl from school, and a ridiculous (but completely in-character) willingness to ruin his life rather than own up to bowel problems. I felt sorry for him, and frustrated by him, but I never enjoyed reading through his eyes. The refrigerator obsessed mother, Bar-B-Chew-Barn-addicted mothers-friend, and TV-repairman/reporter/super-villain were exaggerated caricatures that should have been funny, but just weren't.
Many people have compared this novel to a Confederacy of Dunces, but it isn't remotely in the same league. Ignatius was a spectacular character, made me laugh out loud a number of times, and is so memorable I find myself recalling him completely out of context. Vernon is completely forgettable, but certainly realistic. Honestly though I think an overly-educated character acting in a ridiculous way has more appeal to me than an idiot being an idiot, so perhaps Pierre just picked a tougher assignment.
The biggest contradiction in Vernon's character is the occasional poetic phrase that will slip out. DBC Pierre is obviously an impressive writer and manages to maintain the dumb teenager voice but apparently couldn't resist pulling back the veil occasionally:
A strip of buffalo leather scrapes into the room, tacked around the soul of Sheriff Porkorney.
A receptionist with spiky teeth, and a voicebox made from bees trapped in tracing paper, sits behind a desk in the waiting room.
I remember once calling my daddy to collect me from a place, but was sad when he came because I’d since grown to love the place. Death takes me like that.3 stars.
No comments:
Post a Comment