The glinting sword of How Late It Was, How Late threatens to hang over my head forever if I continue to drift into magazines instead of picking it up, so I have adopted a "power on through" approach.
Unfortunately, this approach is not making me like this book any more than before. The most I can say is that my hatred has been blunted by repetition. This book is simply wearing me down. I wonder if it really is true that, given enough time, one can get used to anything?
Here's just a little sample, so you can share my pain. Or if this happens to be the greatest book you've ever read, please have mercy and share your knowledge and insights with me!
Sammy's had a run-in with the cops and spent a few nights in the pokey; now he's been released, but he's gone blind, possibly as the result of a beating while in custody. (I have diluted the language here; it appears in the book in all its glory.)
He was gony be fine. Across the big junction and onto the bridge and that was him, so okay, so that's that, ye just f-ing
that's all ye do, step by step, ye walk
step by step, by step, ye keep going, ye just dont cave in man that feeling, hanging there, but ye dont let it cover ye ye keep going christ the times he had had, the times he had been through man he had been through the f-ing worst, this wasnay the f-ing worst man he had been through it man and this wasnay it, it f-ing wasnay, it wasnay, it just f-ing wasnay, he had seen it, the worst man he had f-ing seen it, c-nts f-ing dying, getting f-ing kicked to death, the f-ing lot man he had seen it. F-ing Charlie! Ye didnay f-ing need Charlie to tell ye man ye kidding! Get to f--k. F-ing bastards. Sammy had f-ing seen it, he had seen it. All he wanted was his due, that was all man his f-ing due. He had copped for it; copped for this and copped for that. F-ing alright; okay, okay; f--k yez!
Charming, isn't it? Only 250 pages to go.