A Book So Disappointing I Just Realized Today I Forgot To Do A Post On It!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                             I mean, it was not that bad.  It was just disappointing.

                                             Truthfully, girls, this morning I was all set to write a post on "March," by Geraldine Brooks, which I had been meaning to read for ages, which I had no idea had a connection to "Little Women," by Louisa Alcott, and, as that was the first book I read this year, I had a lot of connection with both.  Then I saw this in my pile, and searched for a post on it.  There was none, so I realized I had to do my due diligence.

                                               First, all the blurbs on the book jacket about how they were "blown away" by this debut novel, eluded me.  Oh, Brandon Taylor can write, in the sense of turning a phrase and putting a nice twist to language, but his book has no story, no worthwhile characters, and ends almost exactly like the Stephen Sondheim musical, "Merrily We Roll Along."  Except there, the characters, with those songs, are more engaging.

                                                 Wallace, the Black youth from Alabama, who comes to some nameless Midwestern university, in some nameless Midwestern town, to pursue a degree in bio-chemistry, is one of the most self-hating characters I have encountered in literature.  Who cares about him? OK, he is Black, from Alabama, and gay, but does he think he is the only one?  Others in the lab he works with have their own problems, and some of them are more pressing than Wallace's.  As for Mean Girls, if they terrified you just walking through the halls, wait till you see how they operate in a competitive graduate school laboratory.  And I thought show biz was cut throat!

                                                     The only character I found redeemable was Simone, the kindly, though austere, faculty advisor.  I agreed with her on her talk with Wallace; whatever he may think, this path is not for him, and he should find another to pursue.  But Wallace is too self-hating; he does not engage well with other people, and will pursue something he hates for the pure misery of it, and to wallow in his own self-hatred.  Some might call this a Pity Party, but it goes well beyond that.  He truly gets off on hating himself.  I see depression and possibly suicide in his future.

                                                     This is a lot to write on a book I did not like.  Brandon, honey, get with the program and don't try to be Ralph Ellison, James Baldwin, or Joan Didion.  They got there first, dear.

                                                        I am not against reading another Brandon Taylor book, but he will have to prove to me, next time, that his book is actually worth reading.

                                                         And not with a bunch of faux rave blurbs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!