Girl With Curious Hair (1988)

I'm a little bit sad that I didn't like this more. I did really enjoy the first story, 'Little Expressionless Animals', but the rest were just ok. I should note that I did not read the last (and largest) story, 'Westward the Course of the Empire Takes Its Way', because I've read that I need to read John Barth's 'Lost in the Funhouse' first in order to fully get/appreciate it. I'll come back and finish this book after I've done so. ( )

I love him. ( )

I don't know what it was about the general tone/emotional impact of this book that I enjoyed so much less than Brief Interviews or Oblivion. I was left cold by the titular story, as well as "Everything's Green." "Say Never" seemed left over from Brief Interviews, and it was better. Especially enjoyed the juxtaposition of perspectives, which I can't remember reading in any other story by Wallace, but again, it left an overall sort of bad taste in my mouth. After a promising beginning, "Westward..." petered out. "My Appearance" was the stand-out, with the most nuanced characterization.

I'm going to say some stuff here sort of off the cuff, as it's been a long time since I read his other two short story collections. But I think Wallace is a pretty moral short story writer. I think, convoluted as some of the story lines can be, and even though there is little outright judgment/analysis, each one ends with an unstated but pretty clear moral message. Maybe less so in Oblivion than Brief Interviews or Girl. That's great. I'll take a moralizer over an absurdist/post-modernist any day. But Girl, unlike the other two, seemed messy and snarky as well as high-handed, and that's sort of a strange combination. I guess I mean that this collection seems to lack Wallace's usual sensitivity.

Of course I'll return to this, but not before finishing The Pale King. ( )

I don't know what it was about the general tone/emotional impact of this book that I enjoyed so much less than Brief Interviews or Oblivion. I was left cold by the titular story, as well as "Everything's Green." "Say Never" seemed left over from Brief Interviews, and it was better. Especially enjoyed the juxtaposition of perspectives, which I can't remember reading in any other story by Wallace, but again, it left an overall sort of bad taste in my mouth. After a promising beginning, "Westward..." petered out. "My Appearance" was the stand-out, with the most nuanced characterization.

I'm going to say some stuff here sort of off the cuff, as it's been a long time since I read his other two short story collections. But I think Wallace is a pretty moral short story writer. I think, convoluted as some of the story lines can be, and even though there is little outright judgment/analysis, each one ends with an unstated but pretty clear moral message. Maybe less so in Oblivion than Brief Interviews or Girl. That's great. I'll take a moralizer over an absurdist/post-modernist any day. But Girl, unlike the other two, seemed messy and snarky as well as high-handed, and that's sort of a strange combination. I guess I mean that this collection seems to lack Wallace's usual sensitivity.

Of course I'll return to this, but not before finishing The Pale King. ( )

A collection of stories, which I regret finishing, as that leaves less of DFW's work unread, with only the brick-sized Infinite Jest looming at me. That will be It. But I will revisit these stories, and chat with him a little bit longer.

The stories are a bit hit-and-miss by DFW standards, which translates to the range of 'outstanding' to 'merely slightly-above-average' by regular writer standards. My personal favorites are 'Lyndon', and 'Everything is Green', and 'Westward..." is a fun ride for anybody who's ever been through a Creative Writing class. The title story is also great, having me bawl with laughter and annoy the other patrons in the waiting room.

Some of the stories were a bit off the mark, however. 'John Billy' reads like a bad parody of Faulkner. But that's all I can think of now. The other stories which gently poke other modern and post-modern writers are hoots. ( )