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Loading... Confessions of a Crap Artist (1975)by Philip K. Dick
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Sign up for LibraryThing to find out whether you'll like this book. No current Talk conversations about this book. The first non sci fi PKD book I have read and I enjoyed it. Very easy to read, a few characters that he regularly uses in his novels. Excellent comparison of a 'not normal' person with some so called 'normal' people. I really enjoyed the chapters that were told from the perspective of the brother, very detailed and often OCD view of the world. I much liked how he described people driving on the roads that they were familiar with. ( ) Could have been edited down a lot. Dick repeats himself, takes a long time narrating irrelevant things, and I don't believe all of it is deliberate. It makes for a really boring book. And what's more is that it is just so misanthropic, without any interesting edge to it. But I don't know. Maybe this says something really insightful about middle-class families in the American 1950s, as the back of the book says? Lives boring and comfortable like those bred contempt and self-sabotaging behavior, I guess. Fair enough. But the book is just a depressing and boring drag, even if it might have some true observations. And that's only if it does. It's also worth saying that this book is uncharacteristically misogynistic for a PKD book. In his other books it's clear that PKD is like pathetically in love with women, but the mechanism of this book relies so much on this nasty view of men and women. It's just a bad picture I think no matter how you look at it. I forgot when I packed this for my trip that this is Dick's one non-sf novel. While it drags a bit in places, it ends up being a cutting send-up of the upper-middle-class in Northern California in the 50s. Everyone in this book is terrible -- but mostly in interesting ways. I spent most of the book swinging wildly between rooting for Jack's probably sociopathic sister Fay and rooting for her comeuppance. In some ways Jack seems the most sane of the bunch, until he falls in with an end-of-the-world group and things feel for a bit like they're on more familiar Dick territory. I probably wouldn't have read this had it been by anyone else, but it was fascinating to see Dick's non-genre work. no reviews | add a review
Belongs to Publisher SeriesPKD composition order (1959)
Jack Isidore is a crap artist -- a collector of crackpot ideas (among other things, he believes that the earth is hollow and that sunlight has weight) and worthless objects, a man so grossly unequipped for real life that his sister and brother-in-law feel compelled to rescue him from it. But seen through Jack's murderously innocent gaze, Charlie and Juddy Hume prove to be just as sealed off from reality, in thrall to obsessions that are slightly more acceptable than Jack's, but a great deal uglier. No library descriptions found. |
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Google Books — Loading... GenresMelvil Decimal System (DDC)813.54Literature English (North America) American fiction 20th Century 1945-1999LC ClassificationRatingAverage:
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