There's so much to hate! Some readers are going to toss this book across the room to get it as far from them as possible.
There's so much to love! And I mean luuuuuvvv
, baby... Some readers are going to toss one off to this! (If they have a willing partner, they might even toss their salad.)
That dichotomy makes for an interesting book!
The chapters in Arthur Graham's Editorial
are short and sweet/sick, reading like vignettes for the scatterbrained as they flitter from one to another storyline like a diseased butterfly on decaying flowers.
Graham echoes Kafka. For no logical reason, characters are thrust forward into the unknown and the reader is left just as in the dark as to why as are Graham's hapless anti-heroes. And he echoes Bukowski. Besides the "fuck it all" attitude, one of the characters is literally a booze-soaked writer.
The overall story intentionally circles back upon itself as I knew it would, but in a way I found unexpectedly satisfying. I loved the apocalyptic commentary on the human race. Some readers will be tantalized/traumatized by the frequent mention of vages and pee-pees, because reading Editorial
is like receiving a forceful enema from your mouth to your ass, leaving you feeling much dirtier by the end, and you'll fucking love it, you filthy sod.