On hearing of my tragicomical experience with a bad Algren
novel, Mark DJ suggested that I dig up Hubert Selby Jr. I
happened to have _Last Exit to Brooklyn_ right here in the
library, so I brought it down and read it.
This one makes Algren's _A Walk on the Wild Side_ sound like
a literary masterpiece. Selby has a story to tell, or rather
several stories, but he wants to build it all on style and
style alone. The result is so ludicrous that I had to stop
for air every few minutes. This is not a case of complex but
great writing, as in the work of Gaddis, Pynchon and
Barthelme: Selby works without a suitable design and
substitutes words, a lot of words, for thought. Evidently,
this was thought to be cool in the sixties, like the Peanut
Butter Conspiracy or The Electric Prunes.
I heartily recommend this dead piece of hardboiled fiction to
those who think that Ellroy's latest is really bad. By
comparison, it will seem quite passable.
What does the DJ recommend next? I have more Selby,
somewhere, but I need a break from him. No, not Burroughs or
Kerouac. Somebody like Henry James starts to sound
attractive, though he ain't hardboiled. I'll even take
Galsworthy recommendations.
Best regards,
MrT
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