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An illustrated book set in Chicago bars between 9/11 and The Plague.
Available exclusively at shop (dot) dmitrysamarov (dot) com
Available exclusively at shop (dot) dmitrysamarov (dot) com
185 pages, Hardcover
Published January 1, 2021
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
May 21, 2021
pretty great illustrated novel about chicago dive bar culture, super easy read.
December 7, 2022
If you let men write books about working in bars, they will talk about people who pissed their pants. And like, not much else. The men in these stories will piss their pants several times. I don’t know if they just think that pissing your pants is funny and grunge or if they assume that they have to include every instance of pants-pissing. They will talk about over-serving customers and weird bosses with hoarding problems and that one guy who won't leave and wants to argue with you about nothing. We know these people and they're problematic faves.
They will also think that they’re blurring the lines between auto-fiction and the novel form when they’re probably just saying exactly what happened through a misogynistic lens and changing some people’s names. Neither of these things make for a good book. The protagonist has always just ended things with some woman out of his league or an older female character. Maybe he’s violent towards her and glosses over it. Maybe every other man is violent towards his corresponding woman and he thinks he’s better than them because he isn’t. Not being evil doesn’t make you good (or even neutral).
I did enjoy the Chicago bar scene as main character but it was shrouded in so much bullshit that I almost didn’t enjoy it. As a participant in the idolatry of whatever random bar is on the corner closest to your house, I understand the impetus for writing about these characters. They’re prototypes that repeat across the entire city on every block. But I also want to know what makes the idiots you know at the bar closest to your house special. I felt like that was really lacking from this narrative and made me question who gave this bartender his writing license. Also! I want something a little more creative than someone regurgitating exact experiences from his time as a bartender. Serving these people doesn’t give you the right to tell their stories. The author can say that he changed things but I don’t know if I would believe that.
I think what I’ve learned from this experience is that the bookstore Inga cares significantly more about the aesthetics of the books they carry than the content inside. This likely applies more to their fiction books than their nonfiction. Don’t get me wrong — I will continue to patronize this establishment and buy expensive and beautiful books. But I think many of their literature might be meant more for aesthetics than actual consumption.
This book ranks highly on my favorite covers of the year and, in spite of its content (or maybe because of it), it has a position of prominence on my coffee table. And despite my semi-scathing review, I did enjoy it because I love Chicago and I think more people should tell stories about this city.
They will also think that they’re blurring the lines between auto-fiction and the novel form when they’re probably just saying exactly what happened through a misogynistic lens and changing some people’s names. Neither of these things make for a good book. The protagonist has always just ended things with some woman out of his league or an older female character. Maybe he’s violent towards her and glosses over it. Maybe every other man is violent towards his corresponding woman and he thinks he’s better than them because he isn’t. Not being evil doesn’t make you good (or even neutral).
I did enjoy the Chicago bar scene as main character but it was shrouded in so much bullshit that I almost didn’t enjoy it. As a participant in the idolatry of whatever random bar is on the corner closest to your house, I understand the impetus for writing about these characters. They’re prototypes that repeat across the entire city on every block. But I also want to know what makes the idiots you know at the bar closest to your house special. I felt like that was really lacking from this narrative and made me question who gave this bartender his writing license. Also! I want something a little more creative than someone regurgitating exact experiences from his time as a bartender. Serving these people doesn’t give you the right to tell their stories. The author can say that he changed things but I don’t know if I would believe that.
I think what I’ve learned from this experience is that the bookstore Inga cares significantly more about the aesthetics of the books they carry than the content inside. This likely applies more to their fiction books than their nonfiction. Don’t get me wrong — I will continue to patronize this establishment and buy expensive and beautiful books. But I think many of their literature might be meant more for aesthetics than actual consumption.
This book ranks highly on my favorite covers of the year and, in spite of its content (or maybe because of it), it has a position of prominence on my coffee table. And despite my semi-scathing review, I did enjoy it because I love Chicago and I think more people should tell stories about this city.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews