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Ακαπούλκο
Σε δύο τόμους
Out of print - Εκτός κυκλοφορίας
Out of print - Εκτός κυκλοφορίας
Mass Market Paperback
First published October 1, 1971
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
October 14, 2013
What? No one reviewed ACAPULCO yet? Fixing that now, not because it's the greatest forgotten novel of the 70s but because I wanted something to read on plane ride, and this one was ready to go into the backpack. It could have been ULYSSES but...
Anyway, this is very much a novel of its day as a cast of characters armed with various neuroses and hangups descend on Acapulco in the late winter months. Half of the characters are there to film a movie named "Love, Love" (yes, that's really the name of their movie). You've got the bullying pig-minded producer, the tortured artistic-minded director, and the beautiful lost-soul star with the wayward past. Added to that is a faded, once fabulously wealthy socialite, a bullheaded father and his hippie son, a well-meaning anthropologist and an out-in-the-fringes sketchy forty year old beachboy. Everyone is hellbent on stirring up a potpourri of soapsuds for the sun-baked, nicotine addicted, beach (or poolside) reader of 1971. Hirschfeld's writing is smooth and professional, and damn it, I got sucked into the story. There's a lot of hot sex, wanton abandon, drugs and tripping, social commentary, love, betrayal and all that cool stuff going on.
ACAPULCO is a relic of a genre that is gone away and forgotten in the cynical world of commercial publishing today. Whatever, I'll take this stuff over most of that oh-so-earnest hi-falutin modern lit of guilt-addled professional suburban urbanites of the 2000s anytime. You know the ones I'm referring to...they buy movie tickets from their smartphones, order lattes from the drive-thru and ponder subjects like whether Nick Carraway is gay or not. (I just can't resist that last jab!)
Anyway, this is very much a novel of its day as a cast of characters armed with various neuroses and hangups descend on Acapulco in the late winter months. Half of the characters are there to film a movie named "Love, Love" (yes, that's really the name of their movie). You've got the bullying pig-minded producer, the tortured artistic-minded director, and the beautiful lost-soul star with the wayward past. Added to that is a faded, once fabulously wealthy socialite, a bullheaded father and his hippie son, a well-meaning anthropologist and an out-in-the-fringes sketchy forty year old beachboy. Everyone is hellbent on stirring up a potpourri of soapsuds for the sun-baked, nicotine addicted, beach (or poolside) reader of 1971. Hirschfeld's writing is smooth and professional, and damn it, I got sucked into the story. There's a lot of hot sex, wanton abandon, drugs and tripping, social commentary, love, betrayal and all that cool stuff going on.
ACAPULCO is a relic of a genre that is gone away and forgotten in the cynical world of commercial publishing today. Whatever, I'll take this stuff over most of that oh-so-earnest hi-falutin modern lit of guilt-addled professional suburban urbanites of the 2000s anytime. You know the ones I'm referring to...they buy movie tickets from their smartphones, order lattes from the drive-thru and ponder subjects like whether Nick Carraway is gay or not. (I just can't resist that last jab!)
Displaying 1 of 1 review