Richard Grant (2) (1963–)
Autor(a) de God's Middle Finger: Into the Lawless Heart of the Sierra Madre
Para outros autores com o nome Richard Grant, ver a página de desambiguação.
About the Author
Richard Grant is an award-winning author, journalist, and television host. His books include Crazy River, the adventure classic God's Middle Finger, and American Nomads. Visit him at richardgrant.us.
Obras por Richard Grant
Etiquetado
Conhecimento Comum
- Data de nascimento
- 1963
- Sexo
- male
- Nacionalidade
- USA
- Local de nascimento
- Malaysia
- Locais de residência
- Kuwait
London, England, UK
Tucson, Arizona, USA
Pluto, Mississippi, USA - Ocupações
- travel writer
- Agente
- Lisa Bankoff
Membros
Críticas
Listas
Prémios
You May Also Like
Associated Authors
Estatísticas
- Obras
- 5
- Membros
- 1,083
- Popularidade
- #23,733
- Avaliação
- 3.9
- Críticas
- 49
- ISBN
- 91
- Línguas
- 9
This book started off really good, but then it quickly settled in to essentially the same oft repeated theme every paragraph to every sentence. My interest became dulled to the point of really having to work to finish it.
The writing was good, and occasionally appealing. Like this part below:
"Témoris was a grubby, placid, little town with chickens scratching in the front yards, coffee-can flower gardens, and dogs sleeping under rusty old pickup trucks, saving their energy for all the barking they would have to do at night."
But I got tired of the repetitive narrative: norteño and narcocorrido music, AK-47s and guns in general, never-ending violence, rape and femicide, machismo and all its downsides, scorpions, crippling poverty and apathy, environmental destruction, cartels, mafiosos, narco everything (marijuana, cocaine, opium), pickups, cowboy boots made out of one endangered species or another, hats (cowboy / trucker) adorned with AK-47s or scorpions or pot leaves, and murder and vendettas feeding a forever series of murder and vendettas.
If that's your thing then this is a great book.
Towards the end of the book, page 241 to be exact, the author had this to say:
"We drank four or five gourds each and got nicely buzzed there on the rim of Sinforosa Canyon and it occurred to me that this was more or less the moment I had been looking for when I set out on his journey. Here I was in the heart of the Sierra Madre, about as far from consumer capitalism and the comfortably familiar as I could get, drinking tesguino with a wizened old Tarahumara and feeling that edgy, excited pleasure in being alive that follows a bad scare. It was an uncomfortable realization. To put it another way, here I was getting my kicks and curing my ennui in a place full of poverty and suffering, environmental and cultural destruction, widows and orphans from a slow-motion massacre. I tried to persuade myself that I was going to write something that would make a difference and help these people, but my capacity for self-delusion refused to stretch in that direction."
When I read that, I felt that it summarized the entire book which I'd gotten in the first 40-50 pages, but had taken the author weeks and months and 241 pages. God's Middle Finger is a fairly incredible story, but wasn't quite so fulfilling as a book.… (mais)