First book of the year. Not the best start.
I don’t tend to enjoy movies like Rushmore, or Napoleon Dynamite, or Punch-Drunk Love, where the protagonist is kind of a dick who makes a series of bad decisions, after which everyone ends up uncomfortable or upset. (Including me.)
This is like that, but a book. Adam’s a young American poet in Madrid, ostensibly researching and writing a book of poetry about Spanish history. He spends the book smoking, drinking, and swallowing a variety of stimulants and depressants. He compulsively lies to his family back home, alienates new friends and colleagues, and beds some lovely Spanish ladies. Not much else happens.
I had initially given this book three stars, but in the process of writing the review I talked myself down to two. The descriptions of the architecture and locals are really pretty.
Read more reviews from me at my blog.