The Price of Klosterman

I finished Klosterman's novel, "Downtown Owl", this morning. It was sad, and funny, like everything he writes, but leaves you somewhat empty in the end. I don't know if I just didn't like the ending, or if it was too sad(I've read sadder books, goodness knows), or what-but he's a brilliant, funny young writer. It was a clearly, deeply imagined world, and I enjoyed being in it.

I started Richard Price's Lush Life this morning, but it's not really taking hold yet for me. I've heard him talk about it a couple of times, and it sure sounds like something I would enjoy, but it's real real jargony, and I haven't fallen deeply for it yet. I may drop it and come back to it later. Assuming I don't start bleeding uncontrollably again, I have plenty of time-too much time to spend any reading books I'm not enjoying.

I may go to Ethan Canin's novel "America America", or I may go to history-I have a Civil War, a Napoleonic War, and a Revolutionary War book I could dive into. Plus "The Dark Side", about torture, and that new David Foster Wallace book of essays I bought because I couldn't find the other one I have.

I think David Foster Wallace is chuckling somewhere over the fact that, since his death, I've bought two of his books. (I have a copy of "Infinite Jest" coming from Amazon, too.)