Booker Prize winner, which makes it? A sell out?
And if you think about it, pretty much everything that made the twentieth century bearable was invented in a California garage: the Apple computer, the Boogie Board, and gangster rap. Page 36.
The set up is — I’m unsure. It’s a polemic about race and race relations in America, told with wit and verve, and no small amount of academic showing off, at least, that’s my take, at first blush.
Some books are better as digital, library copies, too. Makes it easier for me to research arcane, possibly black, pop culture references.
Sippin’ on gin’n’juice
Dense, and enigmatic, but strangely funny, too. Almost poetic and lyrical, yet, that layered and nuanced prose, satiric, at best.
I’ve always liked rote. The formulaic repetitiveness of filing and stuffing envelopes appeals to me in some fundamental life-affirming way. I would’ve made a good factory worker, supply-room clerk, or Hollywood scriptwriter. Page 96.
Well, there is that.
Can one safely blend Ebonics and dead Latin? Street smarts, and academics?
As I was trying to wrestle with some of the prose, the layers and layers of meaning, backing academe with ghetto, virtually in the same breath, I was trying to figure antecedents and similarities.
Maybe if Cormac McCarthy wrote humor? Or if Faulkner, seriously, there is line from Faulkner, with his take on race relations — right on through to this.
First American to win the prestigious Man Booker prize, right?
The Sellout: A Novel