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Look for updates on Slow Lie Detector and other fun stuff on this site. For instance, a great site quotes by real people is http://www.overheardinnewyork.com. Also, good old photos, http://www.squareamerica.com.
Slow Lie Detector, the much-anticipated book by Les Plesko, (ie, he’s anticipating it) will be available sometime in July (probly 2nd week). If you want to buy it, wait a bit and get it directly from Equator Books; their website will have an order page, or visit the store. Or, if you can’t wait, it’s available now for pre-order from Amazon. PS The website http://www.slowliedetector.com has other links you might want to check out.
self-absorbed, Jun 13 2004
By A Customer
This is a book only one reader will like: its writer.
A solipsistic experiment in writing, this book is the product of ultimate selfishness. The author sees only himself and his words without sending a message to the reader, who is not quite the vulgate audience. What’s left for the reader is to decipher rhythmic lines only.
Editorial reviews have already suggested the lack of a storyline, the lack of plot, of a coherent novel structure. Added to the writer’s autistic verbal universe, this book’s flow becomes an experiment in writing, not a novel per se. Maybe this is why this writer could not publish anything in the past ten years. Not even the excuse that the writer is Kate Braverman’s student is strong enough to justify his wordiness. With no other publication to prove his self-absorbed geniality, this writer remains a mere failed disciple.
The female characters are dehumanized through pain beyond the level the body can take. Ultimately, these women’s hyperbolic decay transformed them in monstrosities, the only thing the author could subconsciously do in order to compensate for his lack of inspiration, for the lack of a story. Characters become cartoonish in their engrossed dehumanization, the product of a misogynist mind.
Such an autistic style poses problems when the writer is faced with alternative creative styles. His stylistic universe is egocentrically closed; it’s the only thing that gives this writer the quality of author, in the absence of other novelistic virtues.
Closed in his word-weaved cocoon, this writer will always miss or hate other creative styles the human mind generates in an infinite universe of expressiveness.
June 11 I’m reading five minutes of it at the Skrewball Conf Center in the Sepulveda hills.