Why, you ask? Let me try to put it into words. I always know whether I like or don't like something, but I can never quite articulate it. I can never quite articulate anything, really. Especially in Spanish. But I'll try. For you, my friend. Just for you.
Hope. Despite the fact that it's a depressing read, despite the fact that it seems as if all of the characters are forever trapped in their ways because of one reason or another, despite the fact that I related to Oscar (the overweight slob protagonist) wayyyy too much, I loved it. Love it. I. Love. This. Book.
Or maybe it's because I related to Oscar wayyyy too much? Like I said, I can never really articulate why I like something. But I think that's why I liked it. Well, one reason.
I loved the fact that Junot Diaz meshed the worlds of Latinos and dorkdom into one character. I'm not Dominican and my poison was Pokémon and Dance Dance Revolution instead of sci-fi and D&D, but still. Dude was speaking to me. Dude gets me. One of the few books that I've read where I'm thinking "Jesus, man, get out of my head."
It's not for everyone, though. My sister comes from the same world I do and she couldn't get into it.
"It's too depressing," she said. And it is.
"I don't like the guy characters in the book," she said. And it's true, the male characters are very misogynistic and unlikeable.
But so is our culture, isn't it? Maybe that's why she didn't like it. Hit too close to home. She looks to books as an escape. Why would you want to read about something you already live?
I am Oscar Wao. Kinda. I mean, no, not really. I'm not. I was never so entrenched in my dorkdom that I couldn't pull myself away (though there are times I wish I hadn't). But I can relate. He spent his time watching anime and painting miniature figurines. I spent my time collecting cards and stomping arrows. Neither was conducive to the lives we wanted, but it's what we had.
Damn, son. I finished it yesterday morning and I'm still thinking about it. I want to go back and reread it. I was really upset when I finished it, mainly because it was over. But I hear that Yunior is a character in both of Diaz's other books, so I'm going to pick those up and devour them once I get back to Chicago.
The other reason I loved it so much was that I knew the other characters. There's people in my life that are exactly like the other characters in my book. Well, except for the uncle who snorts cocaine. But maybe one of my uncles does. I don't know. I have a lot of uncles.
Oscar's mom, especially. So strong, in spite of (or because of?) all her suffering. My moms, yo. My moms is like that.
And the hope extended to my writing. I think that's another reason I like it. I was trying to write over the break and I just kept getting discouraged.
I have nothing to write about. My life is boring. Just put my body in a box and float me down the river. I'm tired.
Or something like that. But after reading "Oscar Wao", man… I've always struggled with writing fiction because I felt like I could never really invest myself into the work. Which is why I go the non-fiction route. It's easier. But Junot Diaz doesn't even try to hide the fact that it's fairly auto-biographical. Dude's all like "Yeah, so what, motherfucker?"
Also, it's the least political book about politics I've ever read. But I think the politics is actually what made it so engrossing, man.
Ok, I'll stop. It's starting to feel like I'm writing a middle school book review.
"I really like the grandma character. She was very interesting."
Which she was, but you know what I mean.
Man.
Seriously, just go. Go read it. Finish it in a day. Devour it. Then sit back, relax, and think about it. Then reread it again. And think some more. If you don't like it, let me know why.
I think I'm going to write more about my family. Write what you know, right? Write? Right? Ehh, whatever. I always felt like my family was mainly limited to my sisters and parents, but we all know that's not true. I've got cousins upon cousins and more uncles and aunts than you can verb a noun at.
There's the cousin that's a kleptomaniac. Came over to my house and stole all of my SNES game. Only found out when his mom mailed them back to me a week later. There's the aunt that shows affection by grabbing and pinching everyone's ass. And I mean everyone. It always makes me uncomfortable. There's the uncle who doesn't realize that you can see everything he 'likes' on Facebook. His entire wall is plastered with photos of girls touching themselves in various states of undress. Dude should fix his privacy settings.
There's so much I can write about! I feel like Neo in the Matrix. Gonna write about everything and everyone. Why? To be rich and famous as a writer, like Junot Diaz, obviously. (Dude got a MacArthur grant which means he's getting $100K a year for five years, no strings attached. Know what I would do with an extra $100K a year? Travel comfortably. Take that as you will.) But more so than that, just to work through my shit, man. We all got problems. Writing is a way of working things out. And, if you happen to find someone who can relate to your shit and enjoy your writing, then success, right?
Éxito.
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