Ravenous Beauty: A Writer's Workshop

I recently finished The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Steve Chobsky, which was recommended to me. I didn't fall in love.

Man, Perks of Being a Wallflower. I read that in one sitting when I was 18, 19 maybe. (The only book I think I've done that with.) I liked it then, but I didn't read much at the time. I recall there being this line about the main character listening to a lame song that included the word "baby" too much. I also recall him explaining masturbation and saying "wow!" (Him, not me.) Seemed very immature, even for a young adult novel.

Finally read some Craig Clevenger. The Contortionist's Handbook specifically. It was good, well-written, but didn't have much sticking power. Hmmm, let me just yank my Goodreads review:

Craig Clevenger’s The Contortionist’s Handbook is a lean read with infectious language, but it feels like most of the tension also got cut.

The novel is told from the perspective of John Dolan Vincent, a brilliant six-fingered forger who has spent his life moving between identities. Vincent gets monstrous headaches—“godsplitters” he calls them—and a near-fatal overdose pits him against a psychiatric evaluator to avoid being institutionalized. Vincent tells the reader his true story, including when he’s lying, starting from childhood on up. Problem is, John Vincent is a little too good at what he does, so the reader never feels like he’s in any real danger. It’s like when a villain shows up to fight Superman without any kryptonite. Sure, you could capture Lois Lane, but now you’re just making that all-powerful Superman mad. Additionally, the seedy individuals that Vincent works for are mobster clichés; a glaring mistake considering how carefully written the rest of the novel is. The unresolved nature at the end of the novel seems like a mistake, too, but considering the no real danger vibe to begin with, it’s not all that surprising.

Regardless of the flaws, Clevenger’s writing is hypnotic enough to balance out the scales. Almost. He’s like Chuck Palahniuk on a strict diet regimen and supplements. There’s not more—both are certainly minimalists—but Clevenger’s effort to get those lean words right (he does waves of editing for nitpicky things and even has an Excel spreadsheet tracking his adverbs) is plain to see. The explanation of the title is also quite admirable. Still, there’s a lacking to the story that can’t be covered by the commendable style. Three stars. Barely.

Sardonic Artery wrote:Man, Perks of Being a Wallflower. I read that in one sitting when I was 18, 19 maybe. (The only book I think I've done that with.) I liked it then, but I didn't read much at the time. I recall there being this line about the main character listening to a lame song that included the word "baby" too much. I also recall him explaining masturbation and saying "wow!" (Him, not me.) Seemed very immature, even for a young adult novel.

That touches on the biggest problem I had, too. Charlie is immature even for a teen, and all around, he's just not interesting. He's a passive leech that attaches to the people around him. When I hear 'wallflower', I tend to think of someone who's at least active on the outside somehow, but he isn't. There are some things that hit on my own experiences a little bit - night drives with music being 'infinite' for one - but in the end, it felt like the novel was a first draft. The ending did something to explain Charlie's passivity and 'innocence' and awkward social problems, but it only succeeded in rationalizing his problems, it failed to make them anymore interesting at all. At least, in my opinion.

Sardonic Artery wrote:Finally read some Craig Clevenger. The Contortionist's Handbook specifically. It was good, well-written, but didn't have much sticking power. Hmmm, let me just yank my Goodreads review:

Craig Clevenger’s The Contortionist’s Handbook is a lean read with infectious language, but it feels like most of the tension also got cut.

The novel is told from the perspective of John Dolan Vincent, a brilliant six-fingered forger who has spent his life moving between identities. Vincent gets monstrous headaches—“godsplitters” he calls them—and a near-fatal overdose pits him against a psychiatric evaluator to avoid being institutionalized. Vincent tells the reader his true story, including when he’s lying, starting from childhood on up. Problem is, John Vincent is a little too good at what he does, so the reader never feels like he’s in any real danger. It’s like when a villain shows up to fight Superman without any kryptonite. Sure, you could capture Lois Lane, but now you’re just making that all-powerful Superman mad. Additionally, the seedy individuals that Vincent works for are mobster clichés; a glaring mistake considering how carefully written the rest of the novel is. The unresolved nature at the end of the novel seems like a mistake, too, but considering the no real danger vibe to begin with, it’s not all that surprising.

Regardless of the flaws, Clevenger’s writing is hypnotic enough to balance out the scales. Almost. He’s like Chuck Palahniuk on a strict diet regimen and supplements. There’s not more—both are certainly minimalists—but Clevenger’s effort to get those lean words right (he does waves of editing for nitpicky things and even has an Excel spreadsheet tracking his adverbs) is plain to see. The explanation of the title is also quite admirable. Still, there’s a lacking to the story that can’t be covered by the commendable style. Three stars. Barely.

I haven't read the Handbook yet. The only time I saw it was in a bookstore in the city and I didn't have enough pocket money for it. I did read Dermaphoria though. I can't compare his two books, of course, because I've only read one, but Derma has some incredible descriptions and verbal flourishes that really make me seethe envy. The writing the main character does to a specific female character is probably my favorite part.