LRD

by Grant Maierhofer

199 pages, Paperback

Published May 1, 2024

Reviews

[Curtis]

start writing a book about a band ... realize you have nothing important to say about the band ... have a nervous breakdown ... do drugs and ignore your family ... start writing about doing drugs and ignoring your family instead of writing about the band ... start writing about how you're writing about doing drugs and ignoring your family instead of writing about the band ... start worrying there's already too many books about doing drugs and ignoring your family as a way of avoiding writing about a band ... maybe you should try writing a book about a band ... oh wait, you can't start another book until you finish the book you started writing to avoid writing your book about a band ... do more drugs ... listen to obscure Japanese music ... hey, maybe you should write a book about this band! ... oh wait ...

[Stereo]

Funny. Autofictiony. Barely about LRD. Not the type of book I'd recommend to pretty much anyone UNLESS you found this page and are reading this and then yes I think you could like it yes indeed.

[Craig]

Within the first 15 pages we get a Writer to speak beyond Markson’s grave, a Dominick Fernow thought/feel experiment, and either a resumptive pronoun from a native English speaker or a Pynchonian THEY unprocessed.

Nobody can swim around in the post-Biafra jello and excise the Zukofskyan “a” like this fatgut PNW Muscovite.

Piquant lines from Guattari, Melville, Beckett, Russolo, and others are peppered throughout the running rumination. The Augustine shards cut the sharpest.

You’ll traipse brief passages wherein both Pollocks get a little lavender paint dripped on them before Aesop Rock’s first foray is loaded up to unclog Whitney’s sink.