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Well, my spark has been damped a little because I read a further chapter of Jim Giraffe last night and it didn't even raise a smile -- it came across like poo-bum naughty kids' fiction. This may possibly be because I heard recently that King is going to be writing children's books next, and I started seeing Jim Giraffe in that mode.
However, for a good 50 pages this line in cheeky snap-back humour was working great for me. The Giraffe of the title is a ghost who steps out of the protagonist's wardrobe, like a bestial, scatalogical, priapic version of something in A Christmas Carol -- his project is to raise the standard of the guy's lovelife.
Test #1: Would You Like Jim Giraffe? (book not giraffe himself)
Protagonist is Scott Spectrum. One of his friends is called Vic Twenty. If this appeals to you, READ ON!
Test #2
This bit made me laffe so much on the train I had to put the book away.
Scott: "You believe that the existence of God is not provable."
"Put it this way. If he does exist," Jim says, twitching his ears, "He's a bum chum."
"A what?"
"A bum chum. A poof."
"You can't say that."
"Bearded cunt."
Test #3
Scott writes for the (fictional) Science Fiction Channel. His fans wear holographic t-shirts showing the channel's main character, Space Man In Space.
If a T-shirt wearer were to turn round, we would be able to read the slogan: In Space, No One Can Hear Space Man In Space Scream In Space. I thought that up. Catchy.
If the above has no appeal to U, I would suggest U do not read this book. Because it doesn't seem to get better than that. It may indeed get worse!
+-+-+-+-BOXY AN STAR+-+-+-+-
This earlier novel was also uneven for me, as it took me about four chapters to even begin enjoying it. This was even true on the second reading, when you would have thought I'd be able to get into the style and swing of it right away -- but again, I only found it irritating until a key scene where it all clicked and started winning me over bigtime.
Bole and Star are
sort of spoilers
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kids of about 14 -- their age is revealed late on -- who have a babyishly rampant sexual relationship and take tons of mindbending drugs. The story is related by Bole, who can't keep his thoughts in order too well.
It gets lighter now the sun comin orange in thru the up blown curtains the wind liftin em. Star sleepin next to me with her tee shirt pulled up her tummy mucky coz of me my trouble monkey. It is spring. Me pacin up an down the room toin an a throwing. Tryin and rememberin stuff.
&c.
Personally I don't have tons of time for the mundane life story of young teens fucking and spangling their brains through chemicals, so it took a while to win me over.
Where it kicked in for me was around the chapter "Danny Striker", where we hear King's talent with other voices as well as Bole's slightly monotonous, fragmented ramblings. There's also a sense of irony edging in as we realise how other people see the situation and have a dual-vision, understanding both Bole's touchingly addled perception and the weary irritation with which other people treat him and Star. You start sympathising with Star and Bole more as you see them as lost souls being sent from one drug deal to another, getting ripped off and confused -- they don't even know where they live, let alone where they're going -- with only each other and their absolute romantic love as a constant.
At one point they start making an effort to keep themselves in order, Bole writing a list like an illiterate Guy Pearce in Memento:
HOW 2 DO TEH COOCKER ..
I. Get the food waht yuo warnt to eta . if
it is to be coocked yuo coock it in teh coocker.
this is how yuo coock it.
2. if it is sosorges (&i bet it is,) or sumfin waht yuo can coock in teh grill then coock it
licke this .
if you see nothing potentially funny or touching in the above... YOU MAY NOT LIKE THIS BOOK.
A reviewer describes it as part P G Wodehouse, and there are excruciatingly embarrassing social scenes, as when Bole tries to make conversation with the dad of Boxy, his black transvestite pusher friend.
"So what's it like bein black then."
Boxys dad lookin at me sayin: "What."
Me shruggin.
Boxys dad says: "What did you just say Bole."
Me shruggin. "Dunno," I say. "Jus. Askin."
[...]
"I am jus sayin. If you are gonna be black it is alright with me. Aint it Star."
Star noddin. Doin it quick.
"We like black people we do," I say.
Finally as noted above, Boxy an Star is actually near-future sf. The two main characters are a next generation of drug users, their brains already sieved, and there's some interesting technology like solar-panel taxis and gesture-activated TVs, along with detailed, slightly-satirical kids' telly shows like Divorce Mouse and Klu Klux Kat.
You might find it SCROTUM. You might find it BALLBAG. But if you read it, you will know the difference. |
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