Twenty-Fifteen: I’m doing something I’ve been putting off for far too long. I’m getting serious about reading, again. I’ve dusted off my paperbacks and charged up my Kindle. It’s time to take the time to feed my poor television-adled brain with a selection of healthy, nourishing fiction. So, read on, little brain. Read on. We’re going Book to the Future!
After I reached the half-way point the other day, I decided to bite a little more deeply into the last half juicy gore-fest that is John Dies at the End and find out how the story actually, y’know, ends.
Go figure. A twist ending. Or, something twisted and twisting and not entirely expected, at least for a book with a spoiler as a title. The kind of twist that tends to blur the complex confusion of an entertaining if not profusely crazy insanity-tinted rush of a novel and leaves you thinking, well, that was… something.
Given the mish-mash of random books that seems to be adorning this scattered list of crazy novels I’ve been reading, from classics through to the eclectic and strange, one might wonder how I can even begin to draw a fair comparison across the lot. The truth is I cannot. I’ll give John Dies at the End a four stars not because it compares to the likes of Moby Dick or because I actually think it ranks close to Lord of the Flies for cultural impact. Rather, I’ll give it that because I –little ol’me– enjoyed it enough to say, yeah, it wasn’t shit… so if you like gore-filled weirdly-eclectic novels, then… yeah, give it a read.
I’m not into plot spoilers, so I won’t waste time recapping anything much more than to say there were some characters… those characters were richly detailed, and well-rounded, and (if not entirely relatable) they were sympathetic and nuanced enough that (like any decent story) by the end you actually start to care enough about them that, hey, I didn’t want John to die at the end. (I was all, like, John… don’t die.) And if well-written characters aren’t enough to convince you of a solid story, then let me continue with one last point…
The thing is, I’m not a fan of horror. (I think I wrote that in a previous post about this book.) But, and appropriately so, I read someone had compared this book to a kind of mash-up of styles between the horror-weirdness of H. P. Lovecraft and the quirky comedy of Douglas Adams… comedy-gore. So, if that doesn’t pique your attention then… well… we’re done here.
Now, what to read next?