Why did I ever (edition 2001)

This is not the type of book I normally love. I'm drawn to and most profoundly affected by traditional storytelling--great big baggy monsters of stories, books that include more rather than less of everything--so Robison's fractured, experimental collection of vignettes from the mind of the severely ADD (and ridiculously named, alas) Money. My usual dissatisfaction with short work must have been at a wane because I did like this book enormously.

For one thing, it's a gorgeously written book: there are so many downright beautiful lines and observations that I may well purchase a copy if I ever run across one in the stores. I adored the numerous small, mysterious adventures and interactions; my favourite parts had to do with a frequently missing cat and the (quite capable of hearing) neighbor Deaf Lady, with whom Money has a number of touching and very funny interactions. There's a lot, plot and theme wise, that's accomplished here with very little, but what stood out most to me as one of the book's triumphs was the tone. The plot, as it emerges, is one that could be intolerably angsty in another author's hands or with longer treatment: Money is somewhat crazy, ADD-hyper and permanently high on ritalin, and her two children are both deeply troubled. Wonderfully, the fragmented form does not allow for drama or pity-seeking. Overall, "Why Did I Ever" is funny, breathless, unapologetic, and unsentimental. Because it never stoops to cheap emotional shots it's also deeply tragic and emotionally affecting when it does pause to directly (or offhandedly) address the more troubled aspects of the plot. An example of an unconventional form benefiting its contents to the maximum--highly recommended. ( )

Meh. ( )

This was novel, what, #6 for 2007? That's quite a record for me, and luckily I've yet to be disappointed. For a work that was decidedly not linear, I never found myself lost. It was like the 500 sections were puzzle pieces, detailed enough so that you could see the whole picture without having to put those pieces together. ( )

Wierd wierd wierd.
Written in single paragraph numbered "chapters", this diary-like tale of Money (don't ask) Breton and her life is almost compulsive.
What is up with her? Is this a decent into madness?
Sparsely written, this odd book is about Money, her nocturnal drives through the South, her sad children: Mev, a methodone addict who can't hold down a job and son Paulie who is under the witness protection program for a sexual crime. ( )

1.
In a phrase: An ADD tour de force. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like—ADD, I mean—read it and weep.

2.
Two hundred pages; 536 sections. All over the friggin’ place.

3.
And funny. Did I mention funny?

4.
Yeah.

5.
She has meds, but isn’t taking enough. Money, that is. Money Breton has meds. Her kids are in trouble, she’s got too many exes, her boyfriends are pretty dopey, and she’s not yet been fired from another job from Hell: scripting a TV show. Ouch! ( )