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384 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006
(That’s how I feel, stoners. Come ba-aaack.)
First of all, the title: ugh, why. A pun is rarely good enough to carry a novel, a pun on a name is especially arbitrary, and Sherrill’s editor and publisher should both be ashamed of themselves. If they had to go this route, why not simply “The Ruins”? Fifty percent less terrible and would have required no additional effort. Come on, guys.
Other than that, this book’s fine. At least for a Californian reader with a bit of context, the description and contrast of Northern and Southern California in the ‘70s is vivid enough to compensate for 1) some slow pacing and 2) the fact that the characters are so atypical in their wealth and beauty that many people may not find them relatable. The narrator’s conveniently magnetic man-child tech-savant father is rather recognizable these days, at least.
Unrelated observation I can’t articulate properly: the narrator writes from the future without acknowledging retrospect at any point—like, this is clearly the voice of adult Inez Ruin, but she’s pretending she’s still 15? What do you call that variety of anachronism? Do you have an expensive M.A. in Creative Writing you’ve never gotten to use? Now’s your chance; help me out!