A working father whose life no longer feels like his own discovers the transforming powers of great (and downright terrible) literature in this laugh-out-loud memoir.
It is a truth university acknowledged that advertising is a tricky thing, perhaps especially when it comes to selling books. Publishers have to entice readers to buy their books, but at the same time they have to retain some semblance of honesty. The sentence above illustrates how such tricky advertising can be done. On some level it implies that the main character has been very distant from literature. Judging by a couple of reviews that I’ve read about this book, I was not the only person who was very surprised to find out that the author of the book, who is simultaneously the main character, actually had parents who read a lot and took him to library a lot, studied English lit at university and works as a book editor. But I guess that tag line A book editor who has problems adjusting to middle-aged family life remembers that reading can be fun in a vaguely amusing book does not sell as well.
Thus, in the interest of honesty, I must say that The Year of Dangerously bugged me from the get-go, and not only because of the aforementioned problem. I did not understand Miller’s style or, more precisely, the footnotes after every second sentence. I thought that footnotes are for expressing interesting comments and facts not directly related to the paragraph or chapter itself, but Miller just uses them randomly, even though sometimes the footnote text could easily fit in the chapter itself. Besides, the whole book is so whiny, condescending and pretentious – yes, of course, first world people have problems, too, but Miller somehow manages to convey them in an incredibly displeasing and alienating way, while being offensive at the same time. For example, he claims that people tend to be negative towards the book clubs because most of the participants are female, so book clubs are seen as ‘intellectually feeble’. Miller sort of distances himself from this opinion. Sort of. Not really. He also writes that that’s the trouble with stereotypes: they are not wholly disconnected from the truth and starts the paragraph with the statement that he has been fortunate to have stumbled upon a mixed group. Because, God forbid, that he should discuss books with, gasp, women!!! At one point Miller goes as far as saying that most men do not love reading books (which might be true, what do I know), but those who do are mostly myopic, weak-chested or lame. The he goes and singles his wife out as lucky because she managed to find him, a book lover who is none of those things. Oh, the joy!
Perhaps I just wrote this just because Miller was so negative towards e-books. Miller proclaims that if you like reading, this [Kindle] is the object, unbeknownst to you, you have been waiting for; but if you love reading as I do, you may struggle to comprehend what all the fuss is about. I love reading and I am a huge fan of actual, physical books, but I still consider Kindle to be the best thing I have ever bought – it gives me an opportunity to read and discover so much more. So Miller’s statement seems belittling, snobbish and, hey, look, my favourite word in this review, pretentious. It is not for Miller to say who loves books more. I know that it is not exactly what he says, but it seems heavily implied, and that’s just something that I can’t get over.
I think that recently I’ve started to write extremely negative reviews just to get rid of all the bile that has accumulated in me, but I just can’t help myself. I am happy for Miller – he managed to find joy in something that seemed to be long forgotten by him. It helped him to change his life a bit (though, the cover say – completely). I went in expecting to have an expedition through literature (also said on the cover), but ended up having a course in Andy Miller. It’s simply not what I wanted.