Actually, I really would put this at 3 and 3 Quarters.
First off this is a brave book, about the unhoused, opiate epidemic, Prostitution and the disappearances that haunt the Diaspora in Kelowna.
Cockerline runs non-profit irl to help marginalized folk, so kudos to her. Her prose is warm, a little too warm. As now I'll get into a, controversial?.... take on why I didn't give it that extra quarter star to a 4 Star review.
Well it's the way this book is presented, this is about hardcore addicts, the mentally ill, the homeless ( or as Cockerline constantly uses is the PC term "unhoused"), and this is where the problems start, as a dark topic that is meant to be portrayed is written with kids gloves. Should be chalked full of Gallows Humor, and this book is humorless. It just feels like a voyeuristic take on a popular subject made infamous by idiot YouTubers.
This is wear I'll take some shit. It seems the fairer sex (cis gendered girls/women,) are poor at writing about the trendy topic at hand, there's no edge in a world where edge is currency. There's no descriptions of the senses, the smells, the trauma experienced. In fact on Addiction the only one written by a Women that got to core and did not sugarcoat was Jowita Bydlowska's Drunk Mom. So with her as an exception just look at Irvine Welsh and how he handles worlds like that, there's a lot more bodily fluids. Like waking up with the knowledge that through your Nod Noddy adventure 12 hours earlier you shit your pants. Sexual hilarity, cringe scenes you never see coming. Anyways, I'm nitpicking. but this book STILL, despite being about a Sex Worker who is looking for a fellow Prozzie, who has seemingly disappeared. And many know (this being based in Kelowna, just think Pig Farm and you'll get it) of the murders and disappearances of (largely Indigenous Women). But we get barely any tension, no suspects, no real fear amongst these cherry picked characters.
I live in a city where the Opioid Epidemic has really hit hard, for a city that's only about 45,000, per capita, well, it's a big number of addicts. I have to walk past some of these marginalized and strange creatures to get my own dose of something that keeps me clean. I see guys bent in half, with their heads almost touching the ground, Infact just last week I had to Narcan a guy who fell into the Nod outdoors on a -18°C day, his hands were bluer than a Smurfs. I hear he might lose a few fingers, but he's alive..for now. See how me, a Man can craft up what it's really like in the Streets!??? We're visual creatures, and understand the world through our interpretation of it with our eyes, gives us exegesis on such dark topics. Anyways, obviously I love many books by Women, there was a period around 2004 to 2012 that all I was reading were written by Women, as Men Authors seemed to have dropped off a cliff. Cyclical though, as now Men are coming back, in a big fucking way, and we're pissed. So props to Vladimir Sorokin, Michel Houellebecq, David Szalay, Bret Easton Ellis, Paul Murray, Irvine Welsh, Aleksandar Hemon, Richard Powers, Douglas Stuart Lázló Krasznahorkai...
Lawyers Edit: This is just Benway's interpretation, S.D Boyd published this under extreme duress, and is officially "vehemently opposed to the contents published in therein".
- S.T Lockjaw (lawyer for Shitty reviews by a shitty reviewer)
#Bad fucking Idea
# Delete in 6 days