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A review by piapaya
I Loved You More by Tom Spanbauer
2.0
There’s a certain group of writers to which I now add Tom Spanbauer— who seem to be almost universally adored, including Barry Hannah, Raymond Carver, Denis Johnson, and a few others (who are all referenced in this book) and I don’t understand the fandom. Sometimes it feels like these writers and their fans are all in on some secret that I don’t understand because I, personally, just don’t enjoy their writing. I find it boring, uncompelling, and simplistic. Oh yes, there’s layers if you dig, but it always feels like it’s just by accident.
The repetition in this book drove me nuts. Tom Fucking Spanbauer, man. Propinquity. Got to go pal. Big Ben, Small Ben. None of it landed for me. I just, ugh. Novels like this just always feel like a mess to me. It doesn’t have to all “writerly” for me to enjoy something, but this book and the related authors all have this certain quality of feeling very much NOT-written and UNstory-like. I’m just not a fan of that style. I don’t know what that makes me— a snobby reader? Narrow-minded?
The note I’ll leave this on is the following: if the aforementioned writers are to your liking, you very well may enjoy this book.
The repetition in this book drove me nuts. Tom Fucking Spanbauer, man. Propinquity. Got to go pal. Big Ben, Small Ben. None of it landed for me. I just, ugh. Novels like this just always feel like a mess to me. It doesn’t have to all “writerly” for me to enjoy something, but this book and the related authors all have this certain quality of feeling very much NOT-written and UNstory-like. I’m just not a fan of that style. I don’t know what that makes me— a snobby reader? Narrow-minded?
The note I’ll leave this on is the following: if the aforementioned writers are to your liking, you very well may enjoy this book.