The Ginger Man by J. P. Donleavy
The Ginger Man was another one of those 100 Best books that left me cold. It was something like Tropic of Cancer in being a rambling, hard-to-follow account of some young man’s debauchery. Perhaps it would be more appealing if I were a young man. Or a young anything. Instead it leaves me feeling sorry for the characters and hopeful they’ll lead more productive lives in the future. Not that I don’t still have my moments of debauchery but they tend to be moments I regret more than moments I cherish.
The writing style is intentionally chaotic. The author switches between first and third person, past and present. This, while “artistic”, does nothing for me. Then again, a friend was just explaining to me what he gets out of Jackson Pollack–things I’ve never seen or thought of. Perhaps I’d do better with some of these more abstract novels with some guidance. If there’s a foreward to the book I do usually read it. Afterwards. Unfortunately, my edition f The Ginger Man didn’t come with someone’s explanation of what I should be seeing in it.