by grand central station i sat down and wept summary

and i have reread great swathes of this book under the influence of my own ragged emotions.and i am ashamed to admit that i like it more now. Okay, so i have been really sad for a couple of days now. Someone has come to interrupt my 's me - a week later! i am all for pain and howling emotions,but isn't it the responsibility of the writer to marry the vulnerable raw nerves with craft? it is true there were many moments where i was totally on-board with her writing, but when it was bad, it was very very bad. there were moments of great beauty, but too many parts where i was just gagging on her prose.

but i have to give it two stars, because i really didn't enjoy reading it. i read it last, of course, and it made me appreciate the book so much more in retrospect, and it also reminded me of the several parts i did enjoy. Oh, yeah? is that what shame does? it copulates with houseflies, does it? gosh, i hope the maggot gets shame's eyes.i have no patience for this sort of thing.įear will be a terrible fox at my vitals under my tunic of behaviour.īrigid brophy's introduction is excellent. The cricket drips remembrance unceasingly into my ear, lest I mislay any items of cruelty's fiendish inventory. My room echoes with the screams she never uttered, and under my floor the vines of remorse get ready to push up through the damp.

Not God, but bats and a spider who is weaving my guilt, keep the rendezvous with me, and shame copulates with every September housefly. this seemed too self-indulgent - too emotionally bloated.too much 'why use one word when you can use ten and still say nothing?' going on.

I like crisp prose, clean lines, smart phrasings. and as an opening sentence it just stuck in my craw and tainted the rest of the book. There is a way to be evocative and complicated and beautiful all at once, 'the smile on your face was the deadest thing alive enough to have the strength to die,' anyone? i can feel raymond carver hurling an empty bottle of booze at this sentence in disgust, and for once, i am with him. I am standing on a corner in Monterey, waiting for the bus to come in, and all the muscles of my will are holding my terror to face the moment I most desire. This book suffers from many of these sentences.

and you know why?īecause i write huge purple monsters of sentences and only end up making myself small and shy when i come across them years later. and - well, let's save something for the biopic, shall we? and i would smoke a joint and lie on my tummy and record my huge earthshattering thoughts. and i would lie on my tummy and kick my feet in the air and record my tiny thoughts.

By grand central station i sat down and wept summary