What do you think?
Rate this book
Garden State
The first novel by the acclaimed author of The Ice Storm and Purple America traces a group of friends in Haledon, New Jersey, through one spring in their rocky passage toward adulthood. They are out of school, trying to start a band, trying to find work - looking for something to do in the degraded terrain of their suburban hometown. Garden State captures the lyricism of stark lives in an intense and unforgettable story of friendship and betrayal. With a new preface by the author.
224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1992
11 people are currently reading
626 people want to read
About the author
Rick Moody
166 books351 followersHiram Frederick Moody III is an American novelist and short story writer best known for the 1994 novel The Ice Storm, a chronicle of the dissolution of two suburban Connecticut families over Thanksgiving weekend in 1973, which brought him widespread acclaim, became a bestseller, and was made into the film The Ice Storm. Many of his works have been praised by fellow writers and critics alike.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 81 reviews
July 28, 2010
(Deep intake of breath, a hesitation)
Expect this review to be a rambling mess as my thoughts on the novel are more or less that.
First - the embarrassing confession - I originally sought out this book because of the Zach Braff movie of the same title which (unlike some of the other reviewers here) I absolutely loved. If you want to read it for the same reason, don't. The two are unrelated.
I found this to be a difficult book to read. When I would put it down (which is not a good sign in itself) for a day or so, I would find it difficult to pick back up. If I wasn't so obsessed with finishing any book that I start, I may have turned my back on this one.
Part of my difficulty was the nearly stream-of-consciousness writing. While I enjoy that type of narration sometimes, the writing here felt so "drugged out," which - of course - was the point. It was just hard to follow at points. Which brings me to the thing that most contributed to my difficulty with the book - the dialogue. It is written in such a way that the characters seem to know what each other are going to say and so sentences never need to be finished. In some ways, this is a more natural way of writing dialogue and makes sense with *some* of the characters in the novel (both uncomfortable first conversations and friends-forever conversations). However, at other times, it feels like it was done to create more enjambment, more stilted unnatural voices to the world. In short, for much of the book, I felt like I simply hadn't done enough drugs to really understand it.
Also, I found it odd that in the very end of the novel, it seemed to reach for some sort of meta-text - questioning whether language could explain what the characters felt and even speaking omnisciently at the end about resolution. If you don't know me, it is worth saying that I have no problems at all with meta-fiction, with any self-referential text... I just found it odd that it waited until the very end to tackle this idea - it made it feel tacked on to me.
(And it is worth mentioning that I typically do not like the omniscient narrator in stories - so therefore, there is a bias...)
All of that being said, I did like the book. I felt that it attained the bleakness that it attempted and made you feel helpless along with all of its characters. Each character felt empty, but most did not fall to being caricatures. The descriptive sections - of which, there are many - showcased definite talent. I'm sure I will read more by this author in the future.
(also believe that the essence of the book may lie on page 147. Would be interested if others who have read it see it the same way...
Expect this review to be a rambling mess as my thoughts on the novel are more or less that.
First - the embarrassing confession - I originally sought out this book because of the Zach Braff movie of the same title which (unlike some of the other reviewers here) I absolutely loved. If you want to read it for the same reason, don't. The two are unrelated.
I found this to be a difficult book to read. When I would put it down (which is not a good sign in itself) for a day or so, I would find it difficult to pick back up. If I wasn't so obsessed with finishing any book that I start, I may have turned my back on this one.
Part of my difficulty was the nearly stream-of-consciousness writing. While I enjoy that type of narration sometimes, the writing here felt so "drugged out," which - of course - was the point. It was just hard to follow at points. Which brings me to the thing that most contributed to my difficulty with the book - the dialogue. It is written in such a way that the characters seem to know what each other are going to say and so sentences never need to be finished. In some ways, this is a more natural way of writing dialogue and makes sense with *some* of the characters in the novel (both uncomfortable first conversations and friends-forever conversations). However, at other times, it feels like it was done to create more enjambment, more stilted unnatural voices to the world. In short, for much of the book, I felt like I simply hadn't done enough drugs to really understand it.
Also, I found it odd that in the very end of the novel, it seemed to reach for some sort of meta-text - questioning whether language could explain what the characters felt and even speaking omnisciently at the end about resolution. If you don't know me, it is worth saying that I have no problems at all with meta-fiction, with any self-referential text... I just found it odd that it waited until the very end to tackle this idea - it made it feel tacked on to me.
(And it is worth mentioning that I typically do not like the omniscient narrator in stories - so therefore, there is a bias...)
All of that being said, I did like the book. I felt that it attained the bleakness that it attempted and made you feel helpless along with all of its characters. Each character felt empty, but most did not fall to being caricatures. The descriptive sections - of which, there are many - showcased definite talent. I'm sure I will read more by this author in the future.
(also believe that the essence of the book may lie on page 147. Would be interested if others who have read it see it the same way...
January 18, 2022
I really wanted to read this because it's about growing up in NJ but. alas. apologies to the writer, but your male gaze is showing. i barely made it through the first hundred pages. the way the women in this book are written made me want to throw up.
Read
December 7, 2008I remember absolutely nothing about this book but the fact it took place in some suburban hellhole in New Jersey and one of the main characters (or all of them?) were in a band. Poor Moody. Like all modern writers, his books are great to read, but they don't live and they're like sand in my brain.
January 26, 2015
To clear up any misconceptions this is not the book that the movie is based off of. When I read the back cover it sounded interesting as though the entire book was about bands and New Jersey. What I got when I read it was so depressing it killed my mood. None of the characters were likeable (expect maybe Lane) but none of them had any redeeming qualities. The author's preface (which I read after I finished the book) was more interesting than the book itself.
November 9, 2011
“Garden State” by Rick Moody.
Back Bay Book / Little, Brown and Company Hachette Book Group, New York, April 1997.
A garden grown on aimlessness and depression.
Rick Moody’s garden state is what I imagine Nirvana’s Never Mind album would have been if it were a novel. The novel follows a group of youths that live in New Jersey, with live acting as a kind of location rather than a state of being. There is Alice, the main character of the story, who was hoping to make it in a band, but once Critical Ma$$ falls through, she’s left in a state of limbo. The only constant is her relationship with Dennis. However, it’s a relationship built on loneliness and isolation, and Alice never seems to really want to be with Dennis. Then there’s Lane, Dennis’s half brother, who comes home after trying to kill himself. Lane ends up falling off a roof at party, and ends up in a hospital. When he gets out, the story follows Lane, Alice, and Dennis as they once again attempt to reach adulthood, and more than that, as they search for some meaning and purpose in their life.
Moody creates an atmosphere a grungy atmosphere throughout the whole novel. Alice’s room speaks to the world that all of the characters are living in. “Ashtray emptying’s, lingerie, condoms, handcuffs, plastic dinosaur, and army infantrymen were strewn…” What is most telling about this kind of setting is that it is a kind of representation of the whole novel. This lost youth are stuck in that period between adulthood and childhood. You have all of these items that seem to belong to their adulthood, or at least young adulthood, such as the ashtray, condoms, ad so on, but then the little toys lie in the corner. The novel is searching between that period of time; that no man’s land that Alice, Lane, and Dennis find themselves in. How does one become an adult, leaving behind childhood, while still holding on the life and vibrancy?
It’s that question that seems to drive the characters along as well. Lane even feels as though “..he’d been the smartest kid within miles, but as an adult, he’d just faded away. Dead inside. Dead as you get.” Moody creates this sense that the transition to adulthood brings with it some kind of death, not an external one, but an internal one. To further emphasize this are the tales of other kids that the three protagonists had grown up with that had killed themselves or died, such as Mike Maas, who set himself on fire. These outside deaths, and the desire of the main characters to kill themselves, act as metaphors for that internal death that seems to haunt the novel. These characters killed themselves or died before they died inside, becoming empty shells with no real life, such as Alice’s mom, or even her dad, who is a lifeless shell. Lane and Dennis’s parents barely help at all either, keeping a distance from their children, more or less allowing Lane to cave in on himself. It appears as though Moody is pointing out the difficulty that is growing up, by showing that it’s hard to find ones purpose in life, it’s hard to grow up and stay alive, and it’s hard to go through life in general.
Garden State is the novel for a disillusioned, confused generation. It’s grungy, angry, lost, spiteful, and confused. Yet all of these emotions combine to create a numbness that penetrates all of the characters. It seems they only have two choices, grow up, or die. Perhaps that’s what Moody seeks to emphasize about the world as a whole, either you learn to grow and adapt, or the world will cast you out, leaving you alone and empty, a lifeless shell. Being able to show that period between innocent childhood and wizened adulthood is a difficult zone to traverse, but Moody does it to the tee, recalling all the angst of finally growing up. I usually find novels about lonely youths too self indulgent, but Moody makes it so easy to relate to this self-pitying characters, I completely bought in. Yes, it’s a depressing book, but sometimes depression is real and true, and Moody revealed to me that this hazy period in life can be dissected and looked at through a magnifying lens, revealing truths of the world.
Back Bay Book / Little, Brown and Company Hachette Book Group, New York, April 1997.
A garden grown on aimlessness and depression.
Rick Moody’s garden state is what I imagine Nirvana’s Never Mind album would have been if it were a novel. The novel follows a group of youths that live in New Jersey, with live acting as a kind of location rather than a state of being. There is Alice, the main character of the story, who was hoping to make it in a band, but once Critical Ma$$ falls through, she’s left in a state of limbo. The only constant is her relationship with Dennis. However, it’s a relationship built on loneliness and isolation, and Alice never seems to really want to be with Dennis. Then there’s Lane, Dennis’s half brother, who comes home after trying to kill himself. Lane ends up falling off a roof at party, and ends up in a hospital. When he gets out, the story follows Lane, Alice, and Dennis as they once again attempt to reach adulthood, and more than that, as they search for some meaning and purpose in their life.
Moody creates an atmosphere a grungy atmosphere throughout the whole novel. Alice’s room speaks to the world that all of the characters are living in. “Ashtray emptying’s, lingerie, condoms, handcuffs, plastic dinosaur, and army infantrymen were strewn…” What is most telling about this kind of setting is that it is a kind of representation of the whole novel. This lost youth are stuck in that period between adulthood and childhood. You have all of these items that seem to belong to their adulthood, or at least young adulthood, such as the ashtray, condoms, ad so on, but then the little toys lie in the corner. The novel is searching between that period of time; that no man’s land that Alice, Lane, and Dennis find themselves in. How does one become an adult, leaving behind childhood, while still holding on the life and vibrancy?
It’s that question that seems to drive the characters along as well. Lane even feels as though “..he’d been the smartest kid within miles, but as an adult, he’d just faded away. Dead inside. Dead as you get.” Moody creates this sense that the transition to adulthood brings with it some kind of death, not an external one, but an internal one. To further emphasize this are the tales of other kids that the three protagonists had grown up with that had killed themselves or died, such as Mike Maas, who set himself on fire. These outside deaths, and the desire of the main characters to kill themselves, act as metaphors for that internal death that seems to haunt the novel. These characters killed themselves or died before they died inside, becoming empty shells with no real life, such as Alice’s mom, or even her dad, who is a lifeless shell. Lane and Dennis’s parents barely help at all either, keeping a distance from their children, more or less allowing Lane to cave in on himself. It appears as though Moody is pointing out the difficulty that is growing up, by showing that it’s hard to find ones purpose in life, it’s hard to grow up and stay alive, and it’s hard to go through life in general.
Garden State is the novel for a disillusioned, confused generation. It’s grungy, angry, lost, spiteful, and confused. Yet all of these emotions combine to create a numbness that penetrates all of the characters. It seems they only have two choices, grow up, or die. Perhaps that’s what Moody seeks to emphasize about the world as a whole, either you learn to grow and adapt, or the world will cast you out, leaving you alone and empty, a lifeless shell. Being able to show that period between innocent childhood and wizened adulthood is a difficult zone to traverse, but Moody does it to the tee, recalling all the angst of finally growing up. I usually find novels about lonely youths too self indulgent, but Moody makes it so easy to relate to this self-pitying characters, I completely bought in. Yes, it’s a depressing book, but sometimes depression is real and true, and Moody revealed to me that this hazy period in life can be dissected and looked at through a magnifying lens, revealing truths of the world.
October 4, 2018
Buon esordio questo Garden State (1992) di Rick Moody.
Come spesso accade, il 'contenitore' inganna; traduzione del titolo, copertina, quarte di copertina e perfino certe recensioni ti porterebbero a pensare che questo libro parla di ragazzetti strafatti che fottono e suonano punk con rabbia, whiskey, risse e bestemmie. Non è così.
La cittadina di Haledon, New Jersey, di uno splendore triste, rovinoso, è lo scenario semidesertico dove girano a vuoto le vite di Alice, Dennis, Max, Lane e altri. Ma dove vegetano anche i loro genitori, in una apatia patologica che è un baratro forse ancora più inquietante, in una terrificante impotenza davanti al lento e mostruosamente tranquillo consumarsi dei loro figli.
Lane è il 'figlio bruciato', completamente distrutto dalle droghe, un corpo scheletrico avvolto nel lenzuolo di un letto che fa fatica ad abbandonare, di una mente che "non riesce più a pensare", ormai privo di libido, di voglia di ridere, che avverte il senso di dilatazione intorno, tutto è più grande, tutto è pauroso, ogni cosa è terrificante. Lane mi ha profondamente turbato; non è quell'antieroismo un po' nichilista e strafottente alla Trainspotting, irriverente ma anche un po' mitico in fondo, scazzato e psichedelico. Macchè, qui siamo al ground zero della vita umana; forse, direte, ce ne sono già tanti di libri così, ma questo vi assicuro è scritto molto bene, non ha chiaramente nessun cappotto morale, ma nemmeno va in cerca di assurde controparabole da 'fallen angels' o poeti maledetti. Il fuoco è già bruciato, restano le ceneri.
Come spesso accade, il 'contenitore' inganna; traduzione del titolo, copertina, quarte di copertina e perfino certe recensioni ti porterebbero a pensare che questo libro parla di ragazzetti strafatti che fottono e suonano punk con rabbia, whiskey, risse e bestemmie. Non è così.
La cittadina di Haledon, New Jersey, di uno splendore triste, rovinoso, è lo scenario semidesertico dove girano a vuoto le vite di Alice, Dennis, Max, Lane e altri. Ma dove vegetano anche i loro genitori, in una apatia patologica che è un baratro forse ancora più inquietante, in una terrificante impotenza davanti al lento e mostruosamente tranquillo consumarsi dei loro figli.
Lane è il 'figlio bruciato', completamente distrutto dalle droghe, un corpo scheletrico avvolto nel lenzuolo di un letto che fa fatica ad abbandonare, di una mente che "non riesce più a pensare", ormai privo di libido, di voglia di ridere, che avverte il senso di dilatazione intorno, tutto è più grande, tutto è pauroso, ogni cosa è terrificante. Lane mi ha profondamente turbato; non è quell'antieroismo un po' nichilista e strafottente alla Trainspotting, irriverente ma anche un po' mitico in fondo, scazzato e psichedelico. Macchè, qui siamo al ground zero della vita umana; forse, direte, ce ne sono già tanti di libri così, ma questo vi assicuro è scritto molto bene, non ha chiaramente nessun cappotto morale, ma nemmeno va in cerca di assurde controparabole da 'fallen angels' o poeti maledetti. Il fuoco è già bruciato, restano le ceneri.
October 14, 2021
Full disclosure, I'm a middle aged expat Californian and was reading Garden State in tandem with a novel by Virginia Woolf that was loosely based on a Shakespeare play that I was also reading. And yes I got the NJ poetics but the story line in Garden State seemed rather flat and alien to me at this point. Then I ditched everything I was in the middle of reading and went stateside, a trip that ended with a drive out to JFK in a taxi. At the airport I immediately penned this memoire of the experience.
The pedestrian lobbed
A thick gob of spit at the taxi
We were on 3rd, up a bit, almost at 34th
"Fucking dickhead," the walker yelled
The taxi driver didn't flinch
Twenty six years driving
A cab around New York City,
His career move from Russia,
Some guy in a tee-shirt screaming
Profanities at him in the middle
Of the street just as he was
Heading towards JFK
About to get some country air....so....
Anyway
Behind the wheel the Russian perked up
Seeing that cute white Nissan sportscar
Even accelerated a bit, switching lanes
To follow a little closer maybe
Already forgetting about the traffic ticket
He got on Hudson after I climbed in
Tardy seat belt maneuver and the cops
Watching, nodding at me "Ma'am"
As they approached the taxi
Pulled over on top of a bunch of white lines,
Pretty bracelet around the curb,
Requesting a card to charge and the
Happy Dragon Early Intervention Center
Direct off the Horace Harding Expressway
Promising easy access for families
The taxi and the Russian
In moderate traffic rattling
Along the highway
Past the miracle churches and
Wooden houses with barred windows
An hombre in a sombrero on the steps
While Grandpa's Bus Company claimed
It had already checked for sleeping children,
The sign suckered onto the dirty window.
So back in a country where the airport is not surrounded by slums, I picked up where I had left off in the book, Garden State, and that was at the part where the mental hospital is suddenly featured in the plot (just when I had gotten used to suburbia and vans and derelict buildings) and finally the author went easier on the metaphors. The book became much more interesting, and some sort of connection was made, not only in emotions between the characters but as a reader holding up the book, the episode in the mental ward was reading real. And I was a reader who had recently revisited, not the mental ward, but the general geographical area. I waffle between giving the book three and four stars. Yes, the book is about that age of undoing all of childhood's supposed safety nets and the freedom of adulthood but in reverse so that most of the characters are finding adulthood a prison and trying to create the safety nets of their childhood, the question is whether or not those nets ever existed. Spoiled brats? Hmmm reminds me, maybe I would like a sausage patty for breakfast, oh no too late, might be on the menu for lunch. Wait, I'd have to make it myself because this country does not sell frozen or unfrozen sausage patties and besides sausage patties need to marinate in herbs and spices for twenty-four hours. It might be a weekend plan. I might do it. Need to shop first, buy some ground pork. I might put it on a list I might write. I could write a list, or maybe I will just wing it. Maybe the characters in this book ended up romancing meat patties.
The pedestrian lobbed
A thick gob of spit at the taxi
We were on 3rd, up a bit, almost at 34th
"Fucking dickhead," the walker yelled
The taxi driver didn't flinch
Twenty six years driving
A cab around New York City,
His career move from Russia,
Some guy in a tee-shirt screaming
Profanities at him in the middle
Of the street just as he was
Heading towards JFK
About to get some country air....so....
Anyway
Behind the wheel the Russian perked up
Seeing that cute white Nissan sportscar
Even accelerated a bit, switching lanes
To follow a little closer maybe
Already forgetting about the traffic ticket
He got on Hudson after I climbed in
Tardy seat belt maneuver and the cops
Watching, nodding at me "Ma'am"
As they approached the taxi
Pulled over on top of a bunch of white lines,
Pretty bracelet around the curb,
Requesting a card to charge and the
Happy Dragon Early Intervention Center
Direct off the Horace Harding Expressway
Promising easy access for families
The taxi and the Russian
In moderate traffic rattling
Along the highway
Past the miracle churches and
Wooden houses with barred windows
An hombre in a sombrero on the steps
While Grandpa's Bus Company claimed
It had already checked for sleeping children,
The sign suckered onto the dirty window.
So back in a country where the airport is not surrounded by slums, I picked up where I had left off in the book, Garden State, and that was at the part where the mental hospital is suddenly featured in the plot (just when I had gotten used to suburbia and vans and derelict buildings) and finally the author went easier on the metaphors. The book became much more interesting, and some sort of connection was made, not only in emotions between the characters but as a reader holding up the book, the episode in the mental ward was reading real. And I was a reader who had recently revisited, not the mental ward, but the general geographical area. I waffle between giving the book three and four stars. Yes, the book is about that age of undoing all of childhood's supposed safety nets and the freedom of adulthood but in reverse so that most of the characters are finding adulthood a prison and trying to create the safety nets of their childhood, the question is whether or not those nets ever existed. Spoiled brats? Hmmm reminds me, maybe I would like a sausage patty for breakfast, oh no too late, might be on the menu for lunch. Wait, I'd have to make it myself because this country does not sell frozen or unfrozen sausage patties and besides sausage patties need to marinate in herbs and spices for twenty-four hours. It might be a weekend plan. I might do it. Need to shop first, buy some ground pork. I might put it on a list I might write. I could write a list, or maybe I will just wing it. Maybe the characters in this book ended up romancing meat patties.
September 29, 2018
It had it's shining moments here and there, but that couldn't quite carry the book for me. The paragraphs reflecting on dissatisfaction and youth and losing it were my favorite parts.
June 20, 2025
good. depressing.
August 26, 2022
For a book that can be bleak and more meandering than I'd like, there's some unexpected lyricism and dark, pointed humor in Garden State also. The characters don't make the impression you'd expect in such a literary darling of a text, but then the setting is something of a character -- grungy, nearly-post-industrial North Jersey, defiantly unattractive but not without its charms.
July 15, 2019
Much of the emotion imbued in the text seems inextricably linked with New Jersey and, thus, inaccessible to a large part of the population. I had expected it would at least lend itself to thoughts of suburbia, but alas. Maybe those quite familiar with NJ would get more out of it, but for an outsider, it is just murky, place names empty of meaning. That aside, it is definitely a meandering text that I am not certain lands anywhere (nor presents a journey worth the meandering). Still, not a waste and some beautiful moments described.
February 17, 2011
Garden State by Rick Moody is a novel about young adults growing up and living in the suburbs of Haledon, New Jersey during the 80’s. These friends struggle to find purpose for their lives as they deal with broken families, drug use and mental instability. The novel covers a few rough months out of their lives during the spring as they transition from one phase of their lives to the next. Alice is trying to keep her band together, Dennis and Max are continuously looking to score new drugs, Lane is in and out of a psychiatric ward and they are all doing whatever it takes to feel something. This desperate desire to feel something was a big part of everything they did. But all the sex, drugs and alcohol would eventually wear off leaving them just as empty as before. “When Dennis launched himself onto her she felt – even though strictly speaking she felt nothing – as though the day made sense” (Moody 11). The story was as raw and grungy as the time and place depicted. Moody truly captured the emotions of these characters and of this city.
As far as the plot goes, I have to say I did not enjoy the book. There wasn’t much more to the story other than whiny characters that constantly bemoaned their situation but really didn’t try to fix it in any way. The situations were gruesome and the characters un-endearing and the whole thing was really depressing. I find it hard to enjoy a book when I can’t connect or get attached to any of the characters and that was the problem with this story. I found I really had no interest in what happened to any of them. People with pointless lives that would rather be dead aren’t that fun to read about. Moody really didn’t take the time to establish the characters or give them any depth beyond their addictions. Everyone in the book was basically the same person just with different names. I think he could have done a much better job fleshing out their characters, giving them histories and reasons for their manic and depressive behavior. He spent more time on the shock factor with all the talk of sex, drugs, and rock and roll and less time on establishing a plot. I think what he was trying to do was paint a picture of real life without adding any more drama or intrigue. In theory, this was a promising idea. Unfortunately, it really wasn’t interesting to read. The dialogue was choppy and confusing. It was a lot like eavesdropping on a stranger’s conversation that is never fully explained thus completing my frustration with pointlessness of the whole book.
While the content of the book was completely un-redeemable, the format was actually very beautiful and creative. The style and diction fully conveyed the dark tone of the story. “The thing about the pornographic cable stations was that all those commercials saying the program would be right back, those were really the best part. Like the best thing about a party is getting ready to go to it” (Moody 90). His word choice was impeccable. Moody’s writing is so vivid it overloads the senses. As you read, the noxious fumes of sex, vomit, and booze violate your nostrils while crappy metal music bombards your eardrums. His words bring to life a world no one would wish themselves into. It comes as a relief to be able to look up from the book and find that you are not in the very inappropriately and ironically named Garden State.
As far as the plot goes, I have to say I did not enjoy the book. There wasn’t much more to the story other than whiny characters that constantly bemoaned their situation but really didn’t try to fix it in any way. The situations were gruesome and the characters un-endearing and the whole thing was really depressing. I find it hard to enjoy a book when I can’t connect or get attached to any of the characters and that was the problem with this story. I found I really had no interest in what happened to any of them. People with pointless lives that would rather be dead aren’t that fun to read about. Moody really didn’t take the time to establish the characters or give them any depth beyond their addictions. Everyone in the book was basically the same person just with different names. I think he could have done a much better job fleshing out their characters, giving them histories and reasons for their manic and depressive behavior. He spent more time on the shock factor with all the talk of sex, drugs, and rock and roll and less time on establishing a plot. I think what he was trying to do was paint a picture of real life without adding any more drama or intrigue. In theory, this was a promising idea. Unfortunately, it really wasn’t interesting to read. The dialogue was choppy and confusing. It was a lot like eavesdropping on a stranger’s conversation that is never fully explained thus completing my frustration with pointlessness of the whole book.
While the content of the book was completely un-redeemable, the format was actually very beautiful and creative. The style and diction fully conveyed the dark tone of the story. “The thing about the pornographic cable stations was that all those commercials saying the program would be right back, those were really the best part. Like the best thing about a party is getting ready to go to it” (Moody 90). His word choice was impeccable. Moody’s writing is so vivid it overloads the senses. As you read, the noxious fumes of sex, vomit, and booze violate your nostrils while crappy metal music bombards your eardrums. His words bring to life a world no one would wish themselves into. It comes as a relief to be able to look up from the book and find that you are not in the very inappropriately and ironically named Garden State.
September 21, 2021
This book bears a certain distinction on my blog in that it is the only book reviewed twice--once in 2009, and once in 2019--and the story of why is interesting but I think is told in the second review (both are linked below--and nope, the second one is super-short, but the comments from the first one should fill in the blank). In short, the first time I read it, I was 26 and relatively close to the age of most of the characters; the second time, I was 35 and considerably older than them, and did not feel the same sense of enmity or catharsis from the events of their lives. It's still a fun book, but I think it will speak most importantly to younger readers, those in high school, college, and post-college without real prospects.
There is a main female character and several other important characters, but there are a few things worth mentioning. (1) This is NOT the source material for the film GARDEN STATE. That movie is probably worse than this book, though admittedly, they share a few similar themes. (2) This is Rick Moody's debut novel. Moody is an interesting writer that applies a light touch to often troubling, or heavy subject matter. I read PURPLE AMERICA before this, and I liked this considerably more, though in retrospect upon re-reading this, perhaps PURPLE AMERICA is the much stronger novel. I never read THE ICE STORM, but I saw the movie and liked it very much, even better than GARDEN STATE. Basically I am not sure which is the "essential" Moody novel, but his most recent book, THE LONG ACCOMPLISHMENT, would make a strong case if it wasn't a memoir. (3) I believe Moody once spent some time in a sanatorium or psych ward and also went to rehab, and the character that does the same, Lane, is probably the best part about the book, the heart and soul of what it is about--which is mental illness and steeling oneself against a cold, chaotic and brutal world, and carving out something approaching a life.
This is also a great novel for people in New Jersey--perhaps it is not the definitive one, but there is plenty of folklore and local trivia. New Jersey was known to me as the "armpit of the country," around the time this novel was written. New Jersey is still mocked mercilessly, but there is a real sense of pride and "glow" to its residents, such that it no longer seems such a terrible place to live. I do think that has changed (maybe I am crazy and have no idea what I am talking about, but living in New York from 2001-2005, and then 2010-2013, New Jersey seemed to become more respectable--i.e. "Jersey Shore" went off the air) but books by their nature cannot, and so this may not, in fact, be a timeless novel. But I do think it will speak to many younger people in tentative phases of life, and all of the other fuck-ups that live with their parents deep into adulthood (though one is not necessarily a fuck-up to do that in 2021 as opposed to 1991). Oh and I also flew through this book, very quickly, hence 4 stars rather than 3.
http://flyinghouses.blogspot.com/2009...
https://flyinghouses.blogspot.com/201...
There is a main female character and several other important characters, but there are a few things worth mentioning. (1) This is NOT the source material for the film GARDEN STATE. That movie is probably worse than this book, though admittedly, they share a few similar themes. (2) This is Rick Moody's debut novel. Moody is an interesting writer that applies a light touch to often troubling, or heavy subject matter. I read PURPLE AMERICA before this, and I liked this considerably more, though in retrospect upon re-reading this, perhaps PURPLE AMERICA is the much stronger novel. I never read THE ICE STORM, but I saw the movie and liked it very much, even better than GARDEN STATE. Basically I am not sure which is the "essential" Moody novel, but his most recent book, THE LONG ACCOMPLISHMENT, would make a strong case if it wasn't a memoir. (3) I believe Moody once spent some time in a sanatorium or psych ward and also went to rehab, and the character that does the same, Lane, is probably the best part about the book, the heart and soul of what it is about--which is mental illness and steeling oneself against a cold, chaotic and brutal world, and carving out something approaching a life.
This is also a great novel for people in New Jersey--perhaps it is not the definitive one, but there is plenty of folklore and local trivia. New Jersey was known to me as the "armpit of the country," around the time this novel was written. New Jersey is still mocked mercilessly, but there is a real sense of pride and "glow" to its residents, such that it no longer seems such a terrible place to live. I do think that has changed (maybe I am crazy and have no idea what I am talking about, but living in New York from 2001-2005, and then 2010-2013, New Jersey seemed to become more respectable--i.e. "Jersey Shore" went off the air) but books by their nature cannot, and so this may not, in fact, be a timeless novel. But I do think it will speak to many younger people in tentative phases of life, and all of the other fuck-ups that live with their parents deep into adulthood (though one is not necessarily a fuck-up to do that in 2021 as opposed to 1991). Oh and I also flew through this book, very quickly, hence 4 stars rather than 3.
http://flyinghouses.blogspot.com/2009...
https://flyinghouses.blogspot.com/201...
December 14, 2008
i stumbled upon garden state by rick moody when looking on amazon for the movie. they're not related at all aside from the fact they both take place in jersey. my biggest complaint was that the book was not a 'big word' book, but it used big words incessantly. they weren't words that i felt the characters would use, or if they did, they wouldn't use them correctly. moody himself said that the book wasn't his best, and so did the reviewers, but i thought, hey, what the hell. well, eh. the book was more and more of the same after the first few chapters. which might be brilliant on the author's part because suburbia is more and more of the same. the book was good at capturing the essence of suburban life and the kind of depression and malaise that overcomes some of the suburbanites. so i liked that part, but other than that it wasn't a compelling read, you know? i wasn't totally attached to the characters. eh. it's okay. i would read it if you want to kind of grasp suburban self hatred, but not if you want a good piece of literature.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Read
November 10, 2008Disaffected youth. That phrase pops into my mind when I think about Garden State. Reminds me of Douglas Coupland in its somewhat grim- (no- I guess gritty- more accurately describes it) portrayal of 20 - 30something youth of America. I'll also never think of NJ the same way again. Not that I had a high opinion of Jersey to begin with. I finished reading the book while we were in NY City. After which- I went across the street from our hotel to get something to eat at s little gourmet grocery store. While waiting for my sandwich- I browsed these pre-packaged slices of pound cake in front of the deli counter. They were manufactured and packaged in NJ. I had a vision of a derelict looking factory by a sludge filled river pumping out these happy looking little pieces of cake. Poison- I thought. Thanks Rick.
April 22, 2020
This is quite a depressing book, filled with miserable characters barely scraping by in their miserable lives in what seems to be a pretty miserable part of New Jersey, and it is absolutely beautiful and compelling despite all of these miserable and depressing things.
January 18, 2011
This wasn't very good, a tepid warm-up for the much better The Ice Storm.
August 31, 2020
So...I'd been looking forward to read this since I liked The Ice Storm when I first read it years ago. Should've stopped there.
Garden State is a depressing book with unlikable people. Normally, a depressing book with unlikable people isn't a deal-breaker; my enjoyment of Blood Meridian will attest to that. But the difference between Blood Meridian and a book like this is that it has to be COMPELLING. Garden State is not compelling at all.
The characters live pointless lives and complain incessantly about nothing of consequence from practically page one. Their struggles are familiar, but they're so unsympathetic that you find it difficult to care. There's talk of building a band after their previous one broke up, but nothing comes of it. In fact, there's very little resolution of anything brought up in the novel. I guess that's what happens when every single character has a sort of dark malaise that hangs over them and it never quits, only moderately lessens. This is accentuated by the copious drug abuse and meaningless sex that they engage in. It's all just so miserable, which brings out one of the biggest issues I have: if the protagonists don't give a damn, then why should I?
To further the focus on miserable spectacle, the narrative is peppered with reminiscences of senseless violence and death from their pasts. Highlights include: a friend who commits suicide by self-immolation, another friend who has his head blown off by an exploding beer keg, a dog that dies from swallowing glass and bleeds from both ends, etc. etc. In any normal story, these would all be traumatic and worth dissecting for a character's psychology, but the protagonists here and so boring and unremarkable and these moments aren't really brought up in any meaningful way (with the sole exception of the immolator, who at least gets namedropped a few sparse times throughout). They seem to serve no purpose other than to add further window dressing to the miasma of awfulness that is 70s/80s New Jersey, and as a result, it comes off borderline pornographic rather than genuinely tragic.
I usually hate this question because it's so cliché, but honestly: what is this book even trying to say? In The Ice Storm, the sex/drugs/suicide stuff were all in service to the greater themes (sexual revolution stuff; loss of innocence; the thin veneer that hides the darker side of the American upper middle class), not to mention that it basically codified the "family drama at Thanksgiving" trope. I found none of that in Garden State. The closest thing I could find basically amounts to: New Jersey sucks. Which isn't even fresh, since Bruce Springsteen was already telling us that through music, years and years before this was published.
I'm willing to forgive a certain amount, since nearly every author is a bit rough at the beginning of their career (and Moody is no exception), but I'd be lying if I said that I thought this book was anything decent. Skip it.
Garden State is a depressing book with unlikable people. Normally, a depressing book with unlikable people isn't a deal-breaker; my enjoyment of Blood Meridian will attest to that. But the difference between Blood Meridian and a book like this is that it has to be COMPELLING. Garden State is not compelling at all.
The characters live pointless lives and complain incessantly about nothing of consequence from practically page one. Their struggles are familiar, but they're so unsympathetic that you find it difficult to care. There's talk of building a band after their previous one broke up, but nothing comes of it. In fact, there's very little resolution of anything brought up in the novel. I guess that's what happens when every single character has a sort of dark malaise that hangs over them and it never quits, only moderately lessens. This is accentuated by the copious drug abuse and meaningless sex that they engage in. It's all just so miserable, which brings out one of the biggest issues I have: if the protagonists don't give a damn, then why should I?
To further the focus on miserable spectacle, the narrative is peppered with reminiscences of senseless violence and death from their pasts. Highlights include: a friend who commits suicide by self-immolation, another friend who has his head blown off by an exploding beer keg, a dog that dies from swallowing glass and bleeds from both ends, etc. etc. In any normal story, these would all be traumatic and worth dissecting for a character's psychology, but the protagonists here and so boring and unremarkable and these moments aren't really brought up in any meaningful way (with the sole exception of the immolator, who at least gets namedropped a few sparse times throughout). They seem to serve no purpose other than to add further window dressing to the miasma of awfulness that is 70s/80s New Jersey, and as a result, it comes off borderline pornographic rather than genuinely tragic.
I usually hate this question because it's so cliché, but honestly: what is this book even trying to say? In The Ice Storm, the sex/drugs/suicide stuff were all in service to the greater themes (sexual revolution stuff; loss of innocence; the thin veneer that hides the darker side of the American upper middle class), not to mention that it basically codified the "family drama at Thanksgiving" trope. I found none of that in Garden State. The closest thing I could find basically amounts to: New Jersey sucks. Which isn't even fresh, since Bruce Springsteen was already telling us that through music, years and years before this was published.
I'm willing to forgive a certain amount, since nearly every author is a bit rough at the beginning of their career (and Moody is no exception), but I'd be lying if I said that I thought this book was anything decent. Skip it.
June 22, 2024
I like stream of consciousness books and character driven plots, but i truly do not know what i just read. The book was so hard to understand and it kept on jumping around and it wasn’t until i was already halfway done with the book that i was used to the author’s writing style. I understood what he was trying to go for but it just felt pretentious and fell flat to me. The way the author describes women was also absolutely unbearable, so idk why i kept on going, but i had paid $5 for this book at a bookstore so i felt obligated to finish it. The ending was just plain and again i understand what he was trying to go for but it just felt like one of those indie film bros who try to make everything so grandiose and “deep” when there’s literally nothing of substance whatsoever. All the characters were so unlikeable and i really wish i didnt spend 2 weeks trudging through this book on the train but whatever.
September 4, 2020
Garden State (1992)
Ho preso il libro per caso in biblioteca e mi aspettavo più qualcosa alla Morozzi, non un romanzo così disperato e desolante. La prefazione è illuminante per cogliere i riferimenti autobiografici. Il titolo originale è sicuramente più azzeccato di quello scelto per l'Italia, perché il New Jersey è quasi un altro protagonista, altrettanto disilluso e desolato.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AE1lZ...
Feeling so restless, so empty inside
Plenty of chances and no one knowk when
Over and over and over again
Needing somebody, needing some help
Slipping into something,
Out of something else
Ho preso il libro per caso in biblioteca e mi aspettavo più qualcosa alla Morozzi, non un romanzo così disperato e desolante. La prefazione è illuminante per cogliere i riferimenti autobiografici. Il titolo originale è sicuramente più azzeccato di quello scelto per l'Italia, perché il New Jersey è quasi un altro protagonista, altrettanto disilluso e desolato.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AE1lZ...
Feeling so restless, so empty inside
Plenty of chances and no one knowk when
Over and over and over again
Needing somebody, needing some help
Slipping into something,
Out of something else
bailed
September 17, 2021From what I can gather from a 2008 email discussion about this book, I had watched and loved the movie The Ice Storm and wanted to read all of Rick Moody's books. Unfortunately, I was bored to tears and couldn't even skim my way through it. I considered giving it another try here, 13 years later, but neither my libraries nor Hoopla have any ebooks. I found a first edition hardcover with dustjacket for a total of $14 but when I look at the Goodreads reviews, I don't think I should risk it / waste my time/money.
March 16, 2017
extra star for the familiarity of the geographic backdrop.
August 1, 2017
A major disappointment. Don't understand the critical love for this novel.
May 10, 2018
Great dialogue, strong writing. The fragmentation is appealing, I like what it does, but I struggled with empathy, probably more a reflection of me as a reader than anything else.
3.5/5
3.5/5
March 17, 2019
Ummmmmmm this was one of those books you KNOW is bad but have to finish.... ugggg
June 10, 2020
feckless youth.
February 2, 2024
Small town suffocation
May 18, 2024
The most Jersey book I think I’ll ever read. Depressing, beautiful, funny, sad. Post-industrial suburbs
Read
December 28, 2025DNF @ 56%. Painful read. I really wanted to like this one.
May 27, 2023
I first read Garden State in High School on the recommendation of a teacher far more brilliant than I am who perhaps had similar hopes for me. Or given the subject matter saw a way to give me some guidance some closure or understanding that the confusion and malaise and boredom and hormones of my early adult life are universal. I think this is a book that is just as important now that I am in my thirties, as those same existential feelings return in force. Time truly is a circle. Read it young. Read it old. Take notes and compare.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 81 reviews