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A review by bmg20
So the Wind Won't Blow it All Away by Richard Brautigan
3.0
"I had become so quiet and so small in the grass by the pond that I was barely noticeable, hardly there… I sat there watching their living room shining out of the dark beside the pond. It looked like a fairy-tale functioning happily in the post-World War II gothic of America before television crippled the imagination and turned people indoors and away from living out their own fantasies with dignity… Anyway, I just kept getting smaller and smaller beside the pond, more and more unnoticed in the darkening summer grass until I disappeared into the 32 years that have passed since then…"
This is my second book I’ve read by Richard Brautigan which I picked up on a whim.
‘So the Wind Won't Blow It All Away’ is a gloomy and downhearted tale of a boy looking back on his life prior to an incident that forever changed his life. A lot of people have attributed the melancholy-ness of this tale to his declining mental health and the fact that he committed suicide a few short years later in 1984. I’m not sure if that’s a fair observation as the other book of his I read ‘In Watermelon Sugar’ seemed to have its fair share of melancholy bits and it was published in 1968. I’m starting to think that’s just how he was. Richard Brautigan’s writing style is strange and often times surreal and even after two books I’m still not sure I’m able to say that I enjoy his writing. It’s interesting to say the least.
This is my second book I’ve read by Richard Brautigan which I picked up on a whim.
‘So the Wind Won't Blow It All Away’ is a gloomy and downhearted tale of a boy looking back on his life prior to an incident that forever changed his life. A lot of people have attributed the melancholy-ness of this tale to his declining mental health and the fact that he committed suicide a few short years later in 1984. I’m not sure if that’s a fair observation as the other book of his I read ‘In Watermelon Sugar’ seemed to have its fair share of melancholy bits and it was published in 1968. I’m starting to think that’s just how he was. Richard Brautigan’s writing style is strange and often times surreal and even after two books I’m still not sure I’m able to say that I enjoy his writing. It’s interesting to say the least.