probably my favorite of his, Klosterman travels around the US to different grave yards and murder grounds of famous rockers throughout the ages including Elvis, Kurt Cobain, and Jeff Buckley. his style is immaculate and very catchy. this book came out during the time I was all syked when new Klosterman came out. so yeah, I got it signed haha. ( )

At first, I thought I would love reading this -- it was Eggers-y (road-trip, life dilemmas, made fun of itself for being Eggers-y) and there were hip little jokes about popular music. But it lost steam about halfway through and his ending soliloquy (actually spoken by his editor) about whether anyone would actually care about his non-love story with little plot or personal development was a little too on-point. He should've taken her advice. ( )

I bought this book because I really liked reading Xhuck Klosterman's articles in 'Spin' magazine. Turns out he doesn't work out so well when he has a whole book to ramble about Led Zeppln.

The book has a really great premise (he travels to places where famous musicians have died in a quest to gain some insight into death, pop culture, and music), and it does have some really funny and really insightful parts.

Too bad 80% of the book is about chicks Chuck Klosterman has made it with. ( )

A fun listen.

A man and a woman are happily married for 10 years. During the tenth year the man dies unexpectedly. At the funeral the (now-) widow meets a man and greatly enjoys her conversation with him. A week later the widow kills her sister.

What happened?

If you're normal, you say that the widow killed the sister because she was talking to her husband.

If you're schizophrenic, you say that the widow killed the sister because she enjoyed the conversation with the man at the funeral and wants to go to another funeral in order to see him again.

Of the folks I've posed this question to, I've only had one who gave the schizophrenic response. ( )

So, this was a book recommended to me by a co-worker a bit ago. He loves it and thought that I might find it enjoyable. I picked it up at the library, and it's one of those books that I'm glad that I read, but it will probably be quite a long time for me to read it again. (Similar to Catcher in the Rye for me.)

Why? Because it's depressing. There were times I wanted to curl up into a ball and just cry during some of it. Part of it is that it's about death, rock and roll, and love. And I didn't always get the references to the music stuff (Klosterman is a reviewer with Spin), but there were some moments throughout the book that I was like "Oh. Shit.", where it hit me over the head like a two by four (that's been happening a lot, recently). Just little insights into people, or relationships. But, gotta say, my favourite line?

I could never be one of those people who climb mountains recreationally; I'd be one of those clowns who dies halfway down Everest because I'd bring extra powdered cocoa instead of extra rope.

Other than that, there were times that Klosterman felt like he was just driveling around while driving around the country, just sort of navel gazing, but sometimes, I'm a sucker for that. Plus, it's a traveling memoir thing, and music is super important to him, and those two things gave it more of a depth for me than if he'd just been navel gazing, so to speak. I listened to music for an hour or so afterwards, and in some ways, I listened to it differently than I might have before, if that makes sense. Where I was, what I was doing, the memories attached to it.

And then, if anything, the following passage made it all worth reading this, feeling alienated and slightly depressed, this borderland place that it's not that I feel unhappy, but I'm not happy, and it's not that I'm numb, but I'm not feeling a lot outside of slightly disconnected. (Though, if the book is making me feel like that, then perhaps the writing is more intense than I'm giving it credit for.)

We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It's easy. [...] They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you'll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there's still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it always happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of those loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. You will remember having conversations with this person that never actually happened. You will recall sexual trysts with this person that never technically occurred. This is because the individual who embodies your personal definition of love does not really exist. The person is real, and the feelings are real - but you create the context. And context is everything. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they're often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else. ( )