CosmicPal
07-10-2005, 12:34 PM
This is the first in a series of underrated literature I’d personally like to share with the Planet. There are a myriad works of art since the dawn of time that have not been given their due artistic merit. Remarkable pieces of music, art, and stories that have garnered critical acclaim, but were never embraced by the mass. So, without further ado- let us begin:
William Kotzwinkle – The Fan Man
1974
http://images.amazon.com/images/P/0679752455.01._AA240_SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg
From the man who brought us “E.T.” we get an achingly funny account of Horse Badorties. This is a novel of the counterculture – a gross, sleazy, and hilarious misadventure of a hippie in the East Village trying to sell small battery-powered fans. It may be read as a satire on the hippie generation, but don’t kid yourself- this is a brilliant novel that reads like a drug-crazed conversation.
From the very beginning of the novel, the reader is introduced to the comical character of Horse Badorties:
I am alone in my pad, man, my piled-up-to-the ceiling-with-junk pad. Piled with sheet music, with piles of garbage bags bursting with rubbish and encrusted frying pans on the floor, embedded with unnameable flecks of putrified wretchedness in grease. My pad, man, my own little Lower East Side Horse Badorties pad.
Just wait until you get to Dorky Day!
This is a fun read. Highly recommended.
William Kotzwinkle – The Fan Man
1974
http://images.amazon.com/images/P/0679752455.01._AA240_SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg
From the man who brought us “E.T.” we get an achingly funny account of Horse Badorties. This is a novel of the counterculture – a gross, sleazy, and hilarious misadventure of a hippie in the East Village trying to sell small battery-powered fans. It may be read as a satire on the hippie generation, but don’t kid yourself- this is a brilliant novel that reads like a drug-crazed conversation.
From the very beginning of the novel, the reader is introduced to the comical character of Horse Badorties:
I am alone in my pad, man, my piled-up-to-the ceiling-with-junk pad. Piled with sheet music, with piles of garbage bags bursting with rubbish and encrusted frying pans on the floor, embedded with unnameable flecks of putrified wretchedness in grease. My pad, man, my own little Lower East Side Horse Badorties pad.
Just wait until you get to Dorky Day!
This is a fun read. Highly recommended.