Una novela a mitad de camino entre El guardián entre el centeno y Trainspotting: LSD, sexo, rock'n'roll y mucho cachondeo. Un paisaje de locura, sueños rotos, drogadicción, alcoholismo, prostitución y autobuses Greyhound. Edgar Donahoe, de dieciocho años,
Edgar Donahoe, de dieciocho años, trabaja de celador en el sanatorio Lemon Acres entre vómitos y sangre. El contacto diario con la muerte hace que el sexo, el alcohol y los alucinógenos estén a la orden del día. Su plan es pirarse a Australia en cuanto logre reunir el dinero suficiente para el billete de ida. Una vez allí se construirá una choza en la playa y se pasará todo el día en pelotas rodeado de bellezones de piel tostada, fumando, pescando, comiendo cocos y surfeando. Pero la cosa se complica catastróficamente la noche en que sale de farra con su mejor amiga, la auxiliar de enfermería Pat Fillmore, una descomunal india blackfoot de uno setenta y noventa kilos, exjugadora de fútbol semiprofesional y tercer puesto en el Campeonato Femenino Estatal de Pulsos de Montana...
Poe Ballantine is a fiction and nonfiction writer known for his novels and especially his essays, many of which appear in The Sun. His second novel, Decline of the Lawrence Welk Empire, won Foreword Magazine’s Book of the Year. The odd jobs, eccentric characters, boarding houses, buses, and beer that populate Ballantine’s work often draw comparisons to the life and work of Charles Bukowski and Jack Kerouac.
One of Ballantine’s short stories, The Blue Devils of Blue River Avenue, was included in Best American Short Stories 1998 and one of his essays, 501 Minutes to Christ, appeared in Best American Essays 2006. [wikipedia]
Ballantine falls into that wonderful category of writers that appear to speak plainly and straightforward but in actually is bathing us in language so subtle and perfectly sandwiched that it seems there would be no other way to word it. This is the story of kid that lives with the same stupid and usually benign ways that most teenagers live until he finds himself at least partially responsible for the death of a friend. The entire backdrop of the story is the nursing home at which he works which lends to an interesting juxtaposition between the abstract reality of age/death and the immediate emotional reality of death when it comes to a friend/family member.
Personal note: Last fall I unintentionally heard Ballantine speak and I was very much taken by his demeanor. His quiet, unassuming body language/voice almost lets you almost overlook the clarity of his words.
No sé muy bien que cojones he leído. Se suponía que estaba clasificado en romántica y me lo iba a leer por las jajas pero me he encontrado en la cabeza de un chaval de 18 años más perdido en la vida que un pulpo en un garaje y que le da a los tripis.
Al menos el colegón se lo pasa bien a ratos. Buena macarrada, 3 estrellas porque me he echado alguna risa
Poe Ballantine is scum. Poe Ballantine is my hero. He's so amazingly honest and down to earth, his characters are intensely human. And because I know *this much* about him (I took a workshop from him called "How to Write the Lost Years") I appreciate how brave he is to write. It's inspirational. And damn funny and devastating to read. Which, if I understand anything about life, is that it's funny and devastating. So, four stars! Because only Alice Munro gets five.
I enjoy Ballantine's prose immensely. He combines humor with ennui and keen observations of the human condition. This is a fun book to read...I only wish he had delved deeper into his views on death (the main character is a nurse in a convalescent home) and spent less time describing the effects of myriad narcotics he samples along the way. It is basically a memoir that lacks the poignancy. Oh well.
Poe Ballantine is one of the most fluent writers of this generation and I eagerly devour everything he writes. In God Clobbers Us All, his craftsmanship is again on display and his wit and descriptive forays engage and entertain, as always. That said, the story was a bit lacking and the narrative became lost.
Edgar is 18 and loves surfing, drugs, and girls with equal measure. He also works in a nursing home with mostly forgotten residents. On the surface, the title seems to refer to the sad demise of the nursing home residents, left alone to die grueling deaths from a variety of unsympathetic diseases. Edgar seems more interested in the sexual exploits with his female coworkers than caring for the patients. He has sexual relationships with two nurses, one married and the other a single, teenage mother. He dreams of surfing in Australia, not a career in elder care.
On deeper reflection after finishing the novel, if humans are made in God's image, then Edgar's lack of wisdom, selfish sexual gratification, and carelessness in giving LSD to an elderly coworker clobbers his friendships and relationships, a reflection of his youthful ignorance to the consequences of his actions. His reckless abandon with the people around him, though not malicious, is devastating nonetheless.
Ballantine's prose is exquisite and poetic at times. My only gripe is that it is WAY too sophisticated and complex coming from an 18-year old, as the narrative is told in first person, present tense. If it was told in first person, past tense, as an older Edgar reflecting on this youthful passage with the wisdom that comes with age, then I would have enjoyed it more. This narrative strategy was very distracting to me. I kept thinking that no matter how intelligent this 18-year old could have been, he never, ever would have spoken like this: "... the illusion of ease and the impenetrability of his feable idealism up in that eagle's nest bedroom..."
Even with this slight misstep, I loved this novel very much. Ballantine is a master wordsmith. I look forward to reading more of his work in addition to what I've read in The Sun.
Esta novela no busca complacer. Por momentos brillante y en otros como si no acabara de saber a dónde quiere ir.
El protagonista, no me terminó de conmover del todo, tiene garra en varios pasajes, aunque no logra ser redondo tiene algo: ese tipo de libros que no se olvidan tan fácil, aunque no te hayan convencido del todo.
«Conozco a uno que dejó el tabaco, la bebida, el sexo y la comida rica. Se mantuvo más sano que un roble hasta que se suicidó...»
God Clobbers Us All felt like a series of odd (witty, nonsensical, perhaps even sarcastic?) plotlines stumbling into one another. For the most part, Ballantine does well to make it work.
Un jove de 18 anys que curra a una espècie de geriàtric on va a parar gent a les acaballes de la vida, personatges estrafolaris i tripis. No me direu que no és una bona combinació.
Quin viatge hem fet amb "Dios nos golpea a todos" de Poe Ballantine i Dirty Works Editorial
Per acabar d'arrodonir-ho, al final hi un grapat de cites d'autors morts que parlen del llibre. Des de Shakespeare fins a Faulkner, passant per Hemingway, donen la seva opinió.
I so loved Poe Ballantine's essays and short stories that I had come across in The Sun Magazine, that I was excited to read his novel. The writing is very strong, and the characters intersting and whacky, but the story didn't have a strong center and I when I read the last page, I wanted so much for the book to be better than it was. Again, the writing is wonderful, but I needed more of a story.
The language was absolutely beautiful and I think I liked the story, but I had trouble connecting with the characters in any way. They were entertaining but I did not understand them. At some points that led to nice surprises, but at others I was just befuddled as to why anybody was doing what they were doing. I would recommend the book just for the wonderful way Ballantine writes about so many things I've never bothered to think about.
After reading Mr. Ballantine for many years in The Sun (Chapel Hill NC lit mag, not UK tabloid), this was my first foray into his full-lengths. Got me up off my duff and made me not scared to write. Also made me laugh out loud!
No es un libro que me haya encantado, pero tampoco lo odié. Tiene humor negro y momentos interesantes, aunque no termina de conectar del todo conmigo. Por eso le pongo tres estrellas: ni me fascinó ni me decepcionó completamente, pero sí dejó algunas ideas y sensaciones que recordaré.
Entertaining enough but nowhere near as viceral or beautiful or funny as some of his non-fiction stuff - Things I like About America and 201 Minutes to Christ are two of my all time favourite books.