Wednesday, January 14, 2004

So. Sarah by JT LeRoy. I'm not entirely sure why I picked this up. I might have read a review when it first came out a couple of years ago. Or maybe I saw it in PW or online. Or... something. In short, I really don't know anything about the author or if the book is supposed to be autobiographical, as some of the reviews on amazon.com would have you believe. I knew even less when I started reading it and maybe that's the way to come at a book like this; one that could be so horrible and depressing if you thought for a second it was real. Not that I think it couldn't be - I'm not that naive. But it is written as almost a fairy tale, or a tall tale from the Old West. Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Little Red Riding Hood. Pecos Bill. There are touches of all those fantastic yarns that could just be acute knowledge of human psychology or they could be magic. The writing is very matter-of-fact and direct, with no moral judgments implied by the author. It is obviously not to be read as a cautionary fable then, but more as an adventure story. True, an adventure story about a cross-dressing pre-pubescent professional prostitute, but one nonetheless.

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