I wish one of my friends had written I Will Take The Answer. Or something like it. It's as disorienting as it is intimate to join Ander on all of his meanderings: through space, memory, and reflection.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to briefly live in another person's mind (would it even make sense?) and this book came very close to what I imagine that to be. It's circuitous, but lucid. Ander sometimes pauses to consider a deeper truth, before promptly jumping to some other related musing. It can feel jarring and frustrating. Maybe a little too much like being in his head!
But it's a huge, wonderful foraging effort. Everything forged by man and nature is appropriated--from oversized Christmas decorations to saguaros, from mystery mixtapes to thalwegs--and tells a story. Sometimes it's hard to tell whether it's a Big Human Story or just Ander's. And though the collection can feel clunky, he usually brings it all together to speak to some fascinating questions, like: why are we drawn to sad songs? Why are we drawn to catastrophe? And my personal favorite: "We--or most of us mortals--can't bear being surrounded all our lives by the dead and by our feelings for them. We need a ceremony to set them free, we say. Or are we the ones we're setting free? Is that selfishness or is it simply living?" (119).
There are moments of arrogance, times where Ander retreats inward faster than I can keep up. Sometimes he's just really mean about people's tastes in music; sometimes he finds the shadows I rather wouldn't acknowledge (look at something sideways, and it becomes embarrassingly clear). It's not always easy or likeable. But wouldn't it be something if everyone could write themselves down like this?