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As far as Jim Dodge's work goes, I've read the one (reluctantly, but very, very quickly, example, I think,) where the central character goes off on a kind of free-wheeling, existential, beat search for the 'Big Bopper's' grave, the 'Big Bopper' having been someone, it seems, who went down in the same bird as Buddy Holly. Dodge, one senses, trawling through his material, is a man who doesn't care too much about what anyone thinks. Like what Kerouac, Pynchon, Dylan and Burroughs felt - In his sick, spittle-flecked, bearded imagination, then, Dodge doesn't seem to feel as if there's too much of a problem, with the dire banality of his thoughts. I suppose he's entitled to his opinion, but, there's a particular reason why the counter-culture doesn't carry too much weight anymore (see also; Tom Robbins, TC Boyle etc, Tony Parsons and such,) and it's because, I fear, of this kind of iffy book.
I can't recommend avoiding Jim Dodge's material highly enough, then. It's not worth you tenner, nor your 50p. |
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