The first time I read Breakfast Of Champions, I felt as though I had found a secret diary of a crazy old man complete with poorly scribbled pictures or his asshole. I was amazing. I'd never read anything like that. I picked up two books off of the broken bookshelf, Catcher In The Rye, and Breakfast Of Champions. I fell into that book, and loved it in a way I had never loved a book.
Slaughterhouse Five in one of my favorite books ever written, and I believe, the book I've re-read most in my life. Cat's Cradle, God Bless You Mr. Rosewater, Mother Night, all fantastic.
After I re-read Slaughterhouse again last week, I though I should scourge the used book stores for something new. I was in luck, and came home with two books, Slapstick, and Jailbird.
It pains me to say this, but...
I didn't like them.
Not much at all.
Now, I'm not finished with Jailbird, but it's even less interesting than Slapstick was. It's awful, I feel terrible, like I'm missing the point or something. But it seems to me that these two lack something.