Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers
From page 165?
“This is the problem with creative people; their self-image is divided into two parts—one thinks that they’re a genius who will one day create a masterpiece of such breathtaking brilliance that it will still be discussed with reverence hundreds of years later; the other part thinks they are trash raccoons rooting around in the dark and coming up with nothing but more trash. There is no in-between.”
A quick snapshot of almost every artist’s internal dialogue. Prior to the halfway point, I thought of it as darkly comic book of manners.
Vera Wong runs a small tea shop, I’d guess, china town adjacent in San Francisco. With a dead body on her floor one morning?
There’s a cast of characters, effectively wrought and then, wrung out, as the tale unfolds.
Not quite dark enough to be noir or even black comedy, but a shade more brittle than some?
There clue is that I stayed up too late to finish reading it. Is there no higher praise?
