http://msarki.tumblr.com/post/145765241683/shame-and-wonder-essays-by-david-searcyBurned Again by Blurbs
In my mind the only activity better than abandoning the reading of this book would be me writing about the whys and wherefores of my sudden flight. In addition, of course, I am factoring in the fight quotient as rarely do I have nothing left to say in any thoughtful argument. Shame and Wonder
by David Searcy did begin with some promise with the very first essay collected here. And it happened, as the story goes, to be the first one he ever wrote. But from then on it was tiresome reading about this vastness of space, his cerebral idiosyncrasies, his girlfriend Nancy and her sketchbook with no previous frame of reference for where she even came from. I’d like to think his ex-wife better fodder. But I do I love a great personality entering the picture. The problem with putting yourself and loved ones into your work however is the risk that nobody will like you. Or too many will find your character a bit too much for embarking on a book-length relationship. I am already pretty sure I do not like David, or his girlfriend Nancy, and even if a few essays down the road there would have been a chance I might find something redeeming in them both is simply not in the cards for me. I am already reading [b:Writing Dangerously: Mary McCarthy And Her World|125844|Writing Dangerously Mary McCarthy And Her World|Carol Brightman|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1391897237s/125844.jpg|121209], a painfully boring autobiography about [a:Mary McCarthy|7305|Mary McCarthy|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1254084720p2/7305.jpg], and I intend on finishing it even it it damages me permanently. I also have [b:Don Quixote|3835|Don Quixote|Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1407710790s/3835.jpg|121842] going at the same time and it is proving to be a bit unbelievable and too silly of a knight-errant adventure for me. But reading the essays by Searcy was supposed to be fun and interesting. He had been compared by his blurb-writing buddies to [a:Geoff Dyer|2279|Geoff Dyer|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1327272389p2/2279.jpg], [a:John Jeremiah Sullivan|22899|John Jeremiah Sullivan|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1321052260p2/22899.jpg], and quite ludicrously even the name of [a:W. G. Sebald|14982514|W. G. Sebald|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-632230dc9882b4352d753eedf9396530.png] was evoked to my now-unforgiving consternation resulting in this literary diatribe. I am so exhausted by these jacket blurbs lying to us and promising works that have little chance of succeeding their lofty ideals. They must think we’re stupid readers and want to believe anything, and often I expect they are right. Always, I am seriously looking for an essayist like Geoff Dyer. Hell, I even look for Geoff Dyer in Geoff Dyer because these days I feel even he has gone missing in most of his latest work. But to invoke Sebald in a wish to sell more copies to us fools has gone a bit too far in my estimation. The only relationship I can find to W.G. Sebald is Searcy’s position on my book shelf sitting right beside him. At least until I can get the damn thing sold. Chances are another fool, like me, is born.