This is kind of like a David Foster
Wallace novel if Wallace was perfectly happy but got hanged anyway, and
then lived. Cody writes like Wallace but is not as good at it,
so you can see how the prose works. The infinite digressions allow
raw, intense scenes without the entire work being a continuous shriek,
like breaking up a punk song with long, musing, witty solos. In Cody's
case this is done, I think, out of Midwestern notions that it is in
bad taste to shriek, but it works for me. The book deals with extremities, and one can only stay at the extremes for so long.
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