thefisherking

I just read The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon. I love The Amazing Adventures of Cavalier and Clay. I love The Yiddish Policemen's Union. I love Telegraph Avenue. I hate Mysteries. The plot can be summed up with #richwhitepeopleproblems. Everyone is a self-indulgent selfish asshole who thinks they could be "big." Seriously one of the things they come up with is "the will to bigness." Because it is a late '80's retelling of Gatsby someone dies. The author all but says they're going to die. This person sucks. They've sucked since before the novel begins. But because they were once tolerable and people seem to think they're charming we're supposed to like them. I was so happy when they died. You know why? Because it meant the book was over. Like Gatsby it contains some very pretty passages but a novel about empty characters ends up being just as empty. If I read this book first I don't think I would've read another word Chabon wrote. I can't in good conscience recommend it to anyone who you like. This book makes me so angry. I think it makes me angry because I know Michael Chabon is such a good writer now.