Amazon asked me if I wanted to review this book through their Vine program.
Well, they didn't exactly ask me.
Ok, it was more like they lined a bunch of books up against the wall and let me take a look at them to see if anyone caught my fancy. I know, it makes us both feel cheap. (In fact, it makes them feel free since I receive an advance read copy in exchange for a review.) The blurbs were fantastic - read this one and tell me what you think!
"This clear-eyed, touching, irresistible account belongs somewhere in with Kerouac, Jay McInerney, and J.D. Salinger."
Right? After I got over McInerney being bookended by Salinger and Kerouac, I gave Notes From The Night (A Life After Dark) a closer look. Then something shiny caught my attention and I forgot all about it. I'm like that. Amazon asked me again. Was I sure I didn't want any of these fine fellows they had for my consideration? I took another look. It had one lonely review, and that review assured me the book was a waste of time, profanity laden filth, and worse than a romance novel.
Profanity laden romantic filth? I'll take three!
I should sue. Not only did Taylor Plimpton fail to waste my time, at no point was I deceived into thinking I was reading a romance novel. Human relationships in all their complexity were absolutely present, but no one had a secret baby. Nor is he a Greek Shipping Magnate or a Billionaire Boss. He's not even minor English nobility! As far as the cursing goes - I have to honest with you here. I use more profanity placing my lunch order than Plimpton used in the entire book. Instead of what I was promised, there was a beautiful ode to the New York Club Scene and the people who populate it. Plimpton goes out much too late much too often with his friend Zoo, where they stand amidst the beautiful people and wait. Check out this blurb.
"Plimpton has perfectly captured the elusive something that makes the nocturnal animals slide through the bright lights and dark alleys in search of the moment where everything falls perfectly into place and we belong. The moment where the too tight jacket loosens, the too loud crowd softens, where the feeling of the evening picks you up and takes you somewhere you can't go alone. You're a surfer and the evening is the perfect wave." - Me
It's so good I forgave the use of wife material as a descriptive phrase. I like it. You should too.