Sunday, October 16, 2011


Paul Harding's Tinkers won the Pulitzer Prize last year, and I understand why. Sort of. I've been reading it for some time, despite it being a very short book, because it's sort of an experimental book, like a NYU film student's senior thesis, but with less sex. There's a lot of nearly unreadable purple prose interlaced with technical sections, shifts in perspective, men dying slowly, their POV altered by the decomposition of their brains like they were on mushrooms and stuck in Ethan Frome or Snow Falling on Cedars. If you have read and disliked the latter two books, you will undoubtedly find Tinkers tiresome, and, if you loved those books, Tinkers was made for you.
I think my response to Tinkers, more than other books, possibly says more about me than the book itself (possibly not. who knows?). I don't think I like set pieces, which is what it feels like. A set piece of epilepsy and men in the Maine woods. HOWEVER, I rather think Mamet would like it. If anyone knows him, please feel free to pass on the recommendation.

No comments:

In summing up, I wish I had some kind of affirmative message to leave you with. I don't. Would you take two negative messages?
-- Woody Allen