Reviews

The Shark-Infested Custard by Charles Willeford

jlmb's review against another edition

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2.0

If you want to read a detailed glimpse into masculinity circa 1972 then do I have the book for you! I think if you go into it expecting crazy, then you won't be so freaked out by the rampant misogyny, casual racist and homophobic comments, and general "What on Earth!?" behaviors. An added bonus is all the incredibly dated early 70's references that I guess read as fresh and modern and edgy 50 years ago.

13 year old drug addicted girl in hot pants - check! Visit to porno theater - check! A threesome with stewardesses (hey, they weren't flight attendants back then) - check! Visit to a drive in - check! Attempted rape - check! Rape - check! Detailed descriptions of groovy polyester lounge suits and their accompanying accessories - check! A 'fancy dinner' consisting of lobster Newburg and vichyssoise - check! A visit to a Playboy club - check! Sexually harassing waitresses - check! Sexually harassing secretaries - check! Making fun of women who don't shave - check! Making fun of housewives - check! Making fun of successful businesswomen - check! There is more but I am tired of this paragraph.

The 'mystery' itself is no mystery. There literally isn't one. There are a few random murders that peter out and go no where. It really is just a portrayal of the friendship of 4 horrible men who live in a 'swingin' singles' modern apartment complex in Miami. Jaw-droppingly dated.

kyle_fowle's review against another edition

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4.0

Willeford at his darkest and grimiest.

mcf's review

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3.0

It's a very well-woven story that rewards patience because it doesn't really start to come together until about 2/3 of the way through. It's also quite cutting and clever at times, which is appealing. That said, none of the four central characters is remotely appealing (by intent, one assumes), and the casual racism and rampaging misogyny are pretty hard to take, even if they are somewhat accurate representations of mid-1970s attitudes.

myxomycetes's review

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5.0

A grim portrait of the single male, with all the absurdity on display. It's hard not to like this novel, while at the same time being shocked at how easily these so-called normal men turn to violence and crime. It might be easy to dismiss this as simply a portrait of place and time (Miami, the 70s/early 80s), but I really doubt the nature of the beast has changed that much since then.

A bit rough around the edges, not only in subject matter but style, I suspect this possibly started as a series of short stories or attempts at other novels. That said, Willeford is a master storyteller and observer and both traits are on display here.


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