The Fuck-Up

I finished The Fuck-Up by Arther Nersesian on the subway home from class today. I've been reading this, mostly on the subway, for a while and am glad to be done with it. Although it was sort of enjoyable, it was also kind of sophomoric. This happened then this happened, etc. I really liked that it took place in New York in the late eighties, and depicted a particular moment that I remember well and fondly. There was a scene going on that I lived through, although without being a part of it. It kind of took place in the background of my life. I existed, relatively sadly, in the midst of it, but was not of it.

Basically my problem with this book was that it was all surface. Some good scenes, a good phrase or two here and there. But for the most part pretty shallow. No character development, no emotional center. I read it with my mind on other things without feeling like I missed anything. Of course, in the end, sap that I am, I got sucked in and was touched.

Here's a quote that I enjoyed although it is nothing special really:

" Wealth, like fame, provided incredible leverage to one's character; an adequate mind seemed brilliant if it belonged to a star. Non-repulsive looks made a blue blood stunningly handsome; mild sensitivity catapulted one into heights of sexiness; basic decency made them rivals of Mister Christ."