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Here's a book you haven't read before: these guys convene in a worthless Texas desert town on the Mexican border and try to screw Uncle Sam out of some G.I. Bill money by starting an art school in a bar. And the funny part is, some of them are serious about art!
Breeden takes a familiar idea and puts his own sardonic twist on it. Like the disillusioned teen in his book Another Number, or like the goatee-stroking poet that he is in real life, the characters in Artistas approach life with a poetic cynicism that somehow comes across as nostalgic and hopeful. If Dorothy Parker were a grisly old WWII vet in the south Texas desert...
Watch out for the hateful, domineering landlord who owns the town, though, or the reluctantly violent sheriff in his pocket. And then there's Eddie, the youngest and most volatile of the vets, who mouths the words as he reads comic books and practices twirling his pistol out behind the bar, practicing for a gunfight.
The unifying metaphor in the book is a painting, a new spin on the Lord's Supper that seems at first tongue-in-cheek, even sacrilegious. But when you get to know these characters and their struggle with their post-war world, you'll see a different meaning in the painting, and you will come away as they do: no better off but, thank God (or Art), hopeful at last.
Buy one from zShops for: $6.00
Buy one from zShops for: $6.00
In Another Number, each particle of global mass seems to have its own life, will, desire, purpose, character. Each house, each chair, each microphone, each piece of paper, each bit of fur has it own character. "Houses stop breezes for only a while, then give in..." (p. 73). "Natted fur hung everywhere, fluffing out from the racks to hug me..." (p. 82). Human beings are simply more characters who have both friends and enemies among all entities, even the so-called inanimate ones. But whether they are friends or enemies seems to be a continuous struggle different for each individual; a struggle towards nothing, towards everything, towards something--sometimes hope...
The descriptions re the elements of the natural world and everyday forces, are so fascinating that they draw the reader into some "solutions" for the madness of life. "The skulky silence of the country washed back in." (p. 89). "...the silence was ticked. The silence was out to get me." (p. 89). "...sometimes...my voice seeped into that boy's ears...into all the graveyards scattered across the hills..." Silence here has its own character, its own life, and so does the voice. Both are out to get Tim. According to Tim's interpretations, feelings, senses and desires, he shows that he aches to be "got". He chooses to bring silence and the voice "against" him to bring a craved change. He *is* the world around him, and within him. He finds his individual responsiveness to the natural world to be an instigator of change, of action towards needed change.
This context of response toward/within our natural world gripped me as I read Another Number. For me, the natural world is a life-love force that pulls me out of gloom, fear, confusion, pain so often, helping my feet to walk, to dance along the earth journey...I realized after reading Another Number that I too have *chosen* the responses towards the universe that David Breeden describes, to be my instigator for needed changes, or simply for fit breathing...
David Breeden's Another Number is a powerful perceptive, insightful, creative, contribution to current literature *life*!