Wednesday, August 18, 2004

I first saw The Book of Joe by Jonathan Tropper on a cart down in the basement while I was waiting for a friend to join me on a break. I liked the cover (sometimes I do judge a book by its cover), and when I opened the flyleaf, there was a rave from Augusten Burroughs (whom I love) at the top and the summary sounded interesting. That was enough for me to put it on my to-be-read list. I don't really know why I'm writing all this filler. Maybe it's because the book really hit me hard and I don't know why because there is almost nothing in it that even remotely resembles my life. All I know is I spent yesterday evening in tears while I finished it. And now I've had my second instance of a roommate walking in on me crying over a book and, you know, maybe I should just stop reading anything with a death in it when the hormones are a-raging. Taking away the hormone factor, it's still a good book; it reminds me a bit of Wonder Boys and a bit of Joe College and Chabon and Perrotta are good company to keep. The flashbacks to Joe's senior year of high school read like a great YA book and I liked how they were interspersed between chapters occurring in the present day. Plus it was really funny, with lots of smartass one-liners. I'm a sucker for sports dramas and for teen coming out stories (and I don't really know why I love either of those topics so much - I just do), so when you combine the two you're pretty much guaranteed a thumbs up from me. Which this is, albeit a rather incoherent and unorganized one.

When I told my friend that I picked up yet another book not knowing about the gay content she laughed at me and asked if I have some sort of psychic gaydar when it comes to picking books. I think she might be onto something here.

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