Jeremy Boydell
Autore di The Pervert
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The Pervert di Michelle Perez
Beautiful, funny, nuanced, heartbreaking.
It's absolutely gorgeous but as others have said it ends very abruptly. I think bits are powerful but the overall impact is mixed... Even recognising a decent amount of stuff as things I grew up there's a lot that's hard to understand about what's going on. We don't get to see that much of how they're thinking and I'm not sure how the mushrooms play into it. But also, again, absolutely gorgeous
While I liked the subject and bits and pieces here and there -- individual scenes and characters -- this is one of those disjointed books that takes a left turn whenever it starts to approach an actual story or a moment I care about and then throws in a dream sequence just to get on my nerves. Interesting, but I just couldn't connect.
Gods.
It’s 4 am and I’m f—ing sick, I’m sick with acid reflux and a body that won’t cooperate and a mind that gasps for air a bunch. It’s 4 am and I read this and I’m angry, I’m angry at it and at you and at me and at how things are.
I have held a hand yesterday—no, two days ago at this point (how did time slip? How the heck does it go forward so slow/so fast)—I held a hand and cried and answered a question with “you deserve it; everyone deserves it”. And all it left unsaid was that they weren’t just everyone.
The protagonist deserves it and she’s homeless and hungry and starving and dependent on the grace of strangers and I’m so f—ing sick right now to my literal stomach and _angry_. Angry personally with each and every thing that made this possible, that makes a life like this possible. I’m angry at you and me and at society. I’m angry at God. I was passing in and out two days ago on the train and I answered I’d yell at God; that I’m writing a story where a bunch of queer and trans weirdos stage a heist to steal the Godhead, and yes, I know it doesn’t make theological sense, but in real life, I’m going to Hell, I know for a fact that either I’ll be sent to Hell or I’ll go there myself, and that before I do I want to sit down with God and yell all my fucking anger at Her. It’s pointed out to me it’ll make perfect sense once She will explain it all to me and I only say that explanations like these will make me _more_ angry. Having someone justify a ton of complete bullshit in a way that makes sense only ever makes me more angry.
Live life like a Catholic girl who knows for a godd—n fact she’s going to Hell and thus has nothing else left to lose.
Read this and be sick. Read this and be angry, be there, read this and be f—ing something, because if you’re nothing after reading this, you’re not my friend, you’re not anyone’s friend, just a f—ing ghost in the night who rattled and then stayed silent and might as well be faded away.… (altro)
It’s 4 am and I’m f—ing sick, I’m sick with acid reflux and a body that won’t cooperate and a mind that gasps for air a bunch. It’s 4 am and I read this and I’m angry, I’m angry at it and at you and at me and at how things are.
I have held a hand yesterday—no, two days ago at this point (how did time slip? How the heck does it go forward so slow/so fast)—I held a hand and cried and answered a question with “you deserve it; everyone deserves it”. And all it left unsaid was that they weren’t just everyone.
The protagonist deserves it and she’s homeless and hungry and starving and dependent on the grace of strangers and I’m so f—ing sick right now to my literal stomach and _angry_. Angry personally with each and every thing that made this possible, that makes a life like this possible. I’m angry at you and me and at society. I’m angry at God. I was passing in and out two days ago on the train and I answered I’d yell at God; that I’m writing a story where a bunch of queer and trans weirdos stage a heist to steal the Godhead, and yes, I know it doesn’t make theological sense, but in real life, I’m going to Hell, I know for a fact that either I’ll be sent to Hell or I’ll go there myself, and that before I do I want to sit down with God and yell all my fucking anger at Her. It’s pointed out to me it’ll make perfect sense once She will explain it all to me and I only say that explanations like these will make me _more_ angry. Having someone justify a ton of complete bullshit in a way that makes sense only ever makes me more angry.
Live life like a Catholic girl who knows for a godd—n fact she’s going to Hell and thus has nothing else left to lose.
Read this and be sick. Read this and be angry, be there, read this and be f—ing something, because if you’re nothing after reading this, you’re not my friend, you’re not anyone’s friend, just a f—ing ghost in the night who rattled and then stayed silent and might as well be faded away.… (altro)
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Statistiche
- Opere
- 6
- Opere correlate
- 2
- Utenti
- 92
- Popolarità
- #202,476
- Voto
- 3.7
- Recensioni
- 5
- ISBN
- 6