freshlybakedbread's reviews
259 reviews

I very much do not like the sentiment that authors can't write about identities and perspectives that they do not personally share or have experience of- a writer who only writes about what they know and never tries to step out of that is not a brave or good writer in my eyes, so I do not want to disparage the book based on the fact it's about teenage girls and it's written by a man. I could guess Warner's intentions while reading this that he wanted to portray some fun, cheeky, mischievous teenage girls who are rowdy and make dirty jokes and are not the victim of the leery men around them. However, I would say that this is one of the cases where the movie is more enjoyable than the book as on paper I found it difficult to differentiate between most of the characters (especially with the lack of descriptions and punctuation), whereas on film the actresses were able to inject some life and individuality into them. A lot of critiques of this seem to be accusing the author of fetishizing teen girls, which there are arguments for and against. Yes, they do spend the majority of the book talking about sex and who they want to have sex with and how much they want to do it. I'm guessing the intention was to subvert the typical stereotypes of teenage boys being the ones who are sex-obsessed and girls are the clean virginal ones (eg American Pie). No, Warner does not delve into the nuances and blurry complications of young girls and their sexual desires and encounters. Dodgy stories about men impregnating underage girls are sprinkled in but mostly just as a part of their banal lives, maybe to demonstrate the grim things that happen to girls that are normalised? But it's not explored and I don't think it was the aim of the book. 

The story itself is only about 40 pages and is in line with many postmodern trends of its time, with its breathless surreal gallery of pop culture icons and bizarre imagery, like a Warhol version of Fear and Loathing. With his outsider's perspective Jarman uses the shiny idealism of Hollywood and advertisements to satirise the 20th century American sentiment of celebrity and capitalism, interposed with surreal fluid imagery. The additional essays after the story really help to bring the writing in context with Jarman's film work and personal life, which I believe is the best way to approach this story. The QR code which linked to a recording of Jarman reading the story (what the text's layout is primarily based on) was a nice touch and a good way of mingling books and technology. My only wish was for the story to have been more structured like a poem rather than from a transcript; the continuous flow of writing made it a bit difficult for the imagery to stick on me and have a required effect. Otherwise this is definitely interesting for those interested in Jarman's work and activism.

I understand Ballard's message and themes here on the intersection of technology and biology, the obsession with celebrity, and the primal intermingling simultaneous desire for deah and sex; however multiple pages of repetitive passages on bodily fluids and car parts just made this tedious to get through. I have no idea what the plot was or what was happening. Ballard's writing sublimely washes over the reader, leaving them a dishelleved mess sometimes almost like Nabokov, but this does not have the tightness or control that Nabokov has. I see the appeal, it's just not for me 

This has been on my reading list for years and I do kind of wish I had read this when I was younger and more susceptible to the themes of this book because unfortunately now, as a jaded 24 year old, I can only find the characters (especially the protagonist) immensely irritating. The female characters in this book solely exist to prop up the male protagonist's ego and teach him life lessons. The protagonist regularly calls himself an ordinary, boring guy, yet so many of the female characters are immediately in awe of him because he reads The Great Gatsby and apparently says such interesting and amazing things and immediately want to throw themselves at him, only fulfilling his needs and disregarding their own. The only redeeming aspect of this dynamic is that the protagonist is so boring himself that it is easier to get more invested in the dramatic stories of the women he encounters. The obsession with sex in the novel is off-putting and would remove the impact of an emotional scene or character development. Thankfully, Murakami's writing (and Jay Rubin's translation of it) was compelling enough to keep me invested and not turned off, but the characters and their dynamics with the protagonist put me off entirely.