Carl Kreative Kreative itibaren Çatak Mahallesi, 01660 Kayadibi Köyü/Feke/Adana, Türkiye
As reviewed by me on June 21, 2006: I've stopped reading at page 25 for the night, before I give myself a tear-enduced headache, which as you may know, are pretty much impossible to get rid of after they've been gotten. I've physically winced at a few overly sentimental turns of phrase already (like seriously gut-churning stuff), but I think I'm going to like it overall -- if i can get through it, I mean. I'm not particuarly sad that his brother died because his brother, so far as I can see, is a literary cliche -- the (mushroom-obsessed) golden boy, and I never met the guy, even fictionally. But it's sad in that way that all things about death are. Because they make you sad about life. And they make you fear your own, they make me miss my dog while he's at my feet. Probably the only truly gut-wrenching, face-melting, flesh evaporatingly sad excerpt on mourning I've ever read is in You Shall Know Our Velocity! by Dave Eggers. And then you find out it was all bullshit, anyway. Crying's all fun and games until someone gets a migrane. *from page six: As he often did when nature was putting on a show for him, Stephen started thinking about God, or at least the god of design. Even though the Bible, from what he knew of it, never spoke of this, Stephen believed that an artistic god existed -- maybe not in heaven minding the store but somewhere -- who insisted on things like patterns on each snowflake, despite the fact that plain old flaked ice would be simpler and more efficient. This same god drew unneeded yet dazzling designs on butterfly wings and turtle shells, painted stripes on tigers and zebras, and dabbed freckles on Nicole's face and arms. He went crazy on peacocks, could have done a little more with hippos. SO BASICALLY: Overly sentimental writing, but a few really great moments that make up for it.