The "reason" for this book was his cross country trip (sponsored by his employer, Spin magazine) to visit the death sites of famous rock stars. Along the way he ponders the efficacy of death adding to one's fame, his various girlfriends--past and multiple present, and his many, many, many opinions on rock-n-roll.
As was usually the case, while reading I dog-eared some pages when passages or thoughts struck me, thinking that I would later go back and use those items as the bones for my blog review. And, as usual, when I get to the point of writing things down, I can't remember what I was thinking at the time or even where the particular passage can be found on the page. This illustrates what is good about Klosterman and what is bad about me. Whether it is real or not, he presents the remembrance of his trip in vivid detail. (I venture to guess--and he admits as much--that some of it is embellished, but even so, he presents a very clear picture of the journey, conversations he had, very specific details that make the description come alive.
I find that I fail when attempting this sort of thing. That is why (reason 1 of 284) he is a famous author with three books under his belt and I am an anonymous blogger with no fan base and absolutely no recognition.
But ANYWAY (as he would write), I do wonder how much of his story is based upon hastily written notes, jotted down in hotel rooms at the end of the day and how much is fabrication. In this world of James Frey and Oprah Winfrey, we NEED to know these things, don't we? (NOTE: This book was published before Freygate and is, in fact, subtitled "85% of a True Story." How much of that is hipster authorship and how much of that is changing the names of real people and how much of that is a true reflection of his writing style is what I wonder.)
But, the point here is that I enjoyed the book. Give it a try if you want someone rambling on about nothing in particular: rock music, how to structure memory around the KISS discography, how Radiohead's "Kid A" (through no fault of its own) reflects the events of September 11th . . . stuff like that.
*****
When I picked up my newest book at the library (see to the right), I was happy to see the renovations finishing up. Not done of course, but finishing. The media section is now in a different place and protected with detector gates. Across the hall from the reserves room is the teen media room. I wonder what books constitute "teen reading" these days, but the place looks very hip--i.e. full of iMacs.
Sadly, I don't think I can accurately report on what's in there because I think they wouldn't let me in. I don't know for sure since I'm afraid of trying it out only to be told to "beat it old dude" but the lady giving me my reserve book indicated (jokingly?) that only teens were allowed.
I know that I am not really old and that old is more of a state of mind than any sort of condition or state of being, but . . . I do realize at times like these that I am getting older.
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