Razzmatazz
Couple of words to look up, “pastiche,” “homage,” and “satire.” Folded into the mix? “Magical Realism.”
I was looking for the clue, and I think I found. I’ve long maintained that the more recent generations are best served to look back at the work of the previous outlaws, in-laws, and scofflaws — namely, the Beat Generation. Literature, poetry, and art.
While it’s been more than a decade, I think since I last listened to Allen Ginsberg read his epic, “Howl,” the delivery, the cadence, the lyrical nature in its structure, wording? I finally realized, maybe a hundred pages into this Christopher Moore novel what the connection was. It’s the cadence, patter, rhythmical motion of the words.
Steeped deeply in noire, potboiler, dime-store detective novels, with an attempt at the language of the historical era, if not factually true, the verisimilitude holds up well.
I was reading a library copy on my tablet, before I hiked off to get a real copy at the bookstore, and late at night? The cadence, and rhythm of the fictional dialogue, I finally grasped what it was, that Beat Generation’s beat.
Except, that the author himself is too young to have been there, at the time. Doesn’t stop the influence.
Good, good book. Makes me want to reread its prequel, Noir.
