on indian killer
just finished indian killer by sherman alexie. somehow, it's both an easy and a not easy read -- i couldn't put the book down, but i also couldn't get the vivid and horrific images out of my brain.

there are many fab reviews online -- this isn't meant to be a review, more just a reaction to staying up too late to get the book finished and out from under my skin.

my trepidation in approaching this book was somewhat justified. it's not an easy book. it is dark and violent and brooding and depressing. yet at the same time, the characters are surprisingly nuanced and three-dimensional. john smith's descent into madness is both lyrical and spritual, but gently unfolds with such a sense of foreboding that it left me uneasy long after the book ended (makes me think of that boiling frog experiment). marie polatkin is not limited to her strident anger, but has a sense of bemusement and clarity of vision that makes her central to the story. the other characters provided landscape for the story -- the simmeringly violent men: reggie, aaron, dr. mather, jack wilson, truck -- out to prove themselves and desperate to belong to the tribes of their own choosing (acting or perpetuating violence, it's all still violence to me). the sympathetic, heartbroken and fading parents of john smith. the discarded and ill-used indigent and homeless on the streets of seattle.

alexie's writing was so well crafted that i found myself absorbed by both the etheral mythologies and harsh realities presented in the book. it wasn't that i couldn't put the book down, so much as i the book wouldn't put me down. i dreamed uneasy dreams, simmered in my own violent anger, sunk into my own bleak visions.

now i need a trashy simple book to balance out the depth of this novel...

:: ewee 12:07:00 PM [+] :: 0 comments ::
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