Tuesday, February 28

reading

The War Against the Assholes, by Sam Munson: New York City highschooler private school magician fantasy with substance abuse and savage beatings. Better, I think, than this sub-subgenre at its worst. Better than that description makes it sound. I was unconvinced by plenty of it. I’m a little angry that I found it so compelling. All the same, I read it in a couple of sittings, the first in the bookstore and the second of them thoroughly whiskey-drunk late on a Sunday afternoon, and the writing grabbed me in a way that most fiction I’ve tried lately hasn’t.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t buy it purely on the strength of the title.

Pansy, poems by Andrea Gibson: A local poet - a friend of friends, or a friend of a friend of a friend, or something approximately like that. I was walking through the Boulder Book Store and made my usual hopeless circle past the poetry section (hopeless, to be clear, because I still don’t know a goddamn thing about poetry and I’m hopelessly unequipped to read most of it with any real perception or discernment), and I thought well, why not. I’ve read their work before. I’ve probably been to a reading. Unlike many poems that I buy, I actually read these. They were good, as far as I’m equipped to tell.

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