One of my favorite authors is Mark Leyner. I have described him as the postmodern reasonable facsimile of Umberto Eco’s doppelganger… at least I do so to people with whom I care to discuss authors of impact without fear of judgement (someday you should let me tell you about that time I was found wanting for my love of YA literature).
am reading, listening read his novel about the gods, because I love novels about the gods. For the seriously important information about this book:
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack: A Novel
by Mark Leyner
Link: http://a.co/3YsVZVq (prices vary)
The throws of love seem to predominate any tales about the gods (I am looking at Neil Gaiman here, American gods was also a fucking awesome listen if you find the full cast audio version).
The Sugar Frosted Nutsack is a snarky and often hilarious look at modern culture, with some sweet gentleness mixed in. It is past absurd love-story that involves scenes reminiscent of Alice in wonderland (a human becomes 50 ft tall) and part pornographic romp (a plethora of dildos of an amazing variety are involved). I have missed Leyners’ work, but decided that he was absent for about 15 years because the world needed to catch up in terms of interestingness.
You know I loved the audio-book when I purchase the actual one. Can’t wait for it to arrive.
What stopped me in my tracks though, was a section where the character, Ike, plagiarizes this gem below which I am reproducing in an homage, if you will, to the story – but in actuality because I want “Ninety-seven percent of people think it was SUPER-SEXY of…”
Ike to totally plagiarize that from O, The Oprah Magazine.”
1. Even little girls, in all their blithe, unharrowed innocence, have a presentiment of sorrow, hardship, and adversity…of loss. Women, throughout their lives, have an intrinsic and profound understanding of Keats’ sentiments about “Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu.”
2. This sage knowledge of, and ability to abide, the inherently fugitive nature of happiness somehow accounts for the extraordinary beauty of women as they age.
3. Women have an astonishing capacity to maintain their equilibrium in the face of life’s mutability, its unceasing and unforeseeable vicissitudes. And this agility is always in stark and frequently comical contradistinction to men’s naïvely bullish and brittle delusions that things can forever remain exactly the same.
4. Women are forgiving but implacably cognizant.
5. Women are almost never gullible but sometimes relax their vigilance out of loneliness. (And I believe most women abhor loneliness.)
6. In their most casual, offhand, sisterly moments, women are capable of discussing sex in such uninhibited detail that it would cause a horde of carousing Cossacks to cringe.
7. Women are, for all intents and purposes, indomitable. It really requires an almost unimaginable confluence of crushing, cataclysmic forces to vanquish a woman.
8. Women’s instincts for self-preservation and survival can seem to men to be inscrutably unsentimental and sometimes cruel.
9. Women have a very specific kind of courage that enables them to fling themselves into the open sea—whether it’s a new life for themselves, another person’s life, or even what might appear to be a kind of madness.
10. Women never—no matter how old they are—completely relinquish their aristocratic assumption of seductiveness.
And here is one last thing I know—and I know this with a certitude that exceeds anything I’ve said before: that men’s final thoughts in their waking days and in their lives are of women…ardent, wistful thoughts of wives and lovers and daughters and mothers.
And because of this.
I give you this: