Random Acts of Senseless Violence

bleak as hell. a little too close to current reality, depressingly so, for me to really enjoy it.

A dangerous downward spiral from innocence to random acts of senseless violence. A diary of a 12-year old girl, living in a world that's slowly falling apart amist growing poverty and civil unrest. While her country, her city, her family sinks lower and lower, her life is uprooted yet she stands strong and adapts. Her transformation is in her circle of friends, her exterior, her street-toughness, and most clearly noticable in her language, as she takes us on her journey in her diary.

Heartbreaking and jaw-dropping.

It all falls down. Sometimes exhausting and maudlin, sometimes gorgeous and powerful. Left me feeling AWFUL, but undeniably effective stylistically and thematically.

Ah, thank you, S.F. Masterworks series! Another literary spec fic book that I would have never found otherwise.

Like the Clarke book, this one opens with an impassioned intro from another author (William Gibson), explaining why this is such a secret, cult favorite. I'm liable to agree! It's original, explosive, exaggerated, tragicomic, and did I mention original? It's double-original. It's n-original. It was fun and dark and demented. I loved it!

The titular random act of senseless violence occurs late in the book, contextualized, as it is, in an already hyper-violent, Near Future (or even alternative reality), Frank Miller-ish, very 1990s, pre-Giuliani New York City. Think riots, homeless people screaming in the street, AIDS panic, burned out buildings, trash on fire, and so on. Also think Prozac, alienatingly plastic authority figures, and a post-therapy culture (“You have to let your feelings out! Don't keep it all bottled up!”).

In this relatively common dystopian premise, we follow an uncommon protagonist (not a bureaucratic worker drone!): Lola Hart, a 12-year-old girl, oldest daughter to two intellectual, Upper East Side Jewish parents. Her father is a failed screenwriter, and her mother's an unemployed English professor. She has a younger sister - the adorable, pudgy princess Cheryl (affectionately called “Boob” by the family), who struts around wearing her My L'il Fetus toy (a pack that you strap onto your stomach; press the button and the baby kicks). Lola is quite a bit more sensible than that, and spends most of her early diary entries managing the usual stuff a 12-year-old manages: friends, puberty, school, family.

The book is written in diary format, and it follows Lola as she comes of age in this crazy, terrible setting. I don't think it's a spoiler to say that her protected, bobo, midtown personality, er, erodes quite a bit. Though the transformation is believable (even if the series of unfortunate events is sometimes not), and emotionally affecting. In fact, there are two (nay, three!) genius aspects to this book:

1. The writing. THE WRITING. Throughout the book, especially its first half, I kept thinking, “How did this adult man capture me so well?!” Because I am Lola's generation, and my diary entries from this period sound exactly like hers. Her style, her slang (oh my Lord, the long-forgotten “crapola”! “going postal”!), the way she names her diary, or wishes it good night. Her concerns and conscientiousness and MY GOD, IT WAS A MIRROR. I mean, apart from the violent, dystopian setting. Maybe my parents should have given this to me every time I threatened to run away. Not only does the writing capture 1990s (female!?) childhood, but it captures the culture and mood of the early 90s as well. When Lola meets her new Harlem friends, and describes their outfits, Lord, I remember that style well. Does the author have kids? Two daughters? HOW DID HE DO THAT!?
2. The insane juxtaposition. I would have loved to see this guy's pitch. “I want to write about a Frank Miller-style New York City in flames, as told through the viewpoint of a little girl.” You'd never think it would work, but, oh, HOW IT DOES. And I want to stress that Lola's narration isn't undermined, it's not about her being cute and idiotic: “Daddy, what's the man saying on TV?” Rather, Lola seems to be one of the few people in her circle who does see the writing on the wall. She's a fully realized character; a force of personality, even. She's definitely not a cypher, and I thank the author for that. It's difficult to write respectfully about kids, without infantilizing or trivializing them.
3. The LGBT and gender themes. Obviously, this passes the Bechdel Test. And the LGBT angle was unexpected and very real (and, in a way, also very 90s).

Very recommended, though it probably won't be everyone's cup of tea. Or, if I may be inspired by 1990s icon, Hulk Hogan, CUP OF PAIN. People compare it to Anthony Burgess, but I actually felt that it resembled more George Saunders, if Saunders was pessimistic.