Book Reviews

SCREW-JACK

by Hunter S. Thompson

Welcome to madness. Hunter S. Thompson's recently re-released collection of short ramblings is a progressive journey through insanity, or to insanity. The book begins with a vivid description of his first mescaline-induced writing binge in "Mescalito," the first of three stories. It was 1969 and he was writing in a room at the Continental Hotel in Los Angeles, overlooking Sunset Boulevard. As he typed he began floating. He floated and typed and worried about flying, until it was time to leave the hotel room and catch a plane bound for Aspen. Pop some mescaline or read "Mescalito"--the experiences cannot be too far from one another.

The second very short offering in Screw-Jack is "Death of a Poet," in which Thompson writes about a brief meeting in a trailer park home with a friend named Leach who happens to be a poor drinker and a bad drunk. This wife-beating friend has lost a stupid bet with some unsavory characters and is waiting, holed-up, in his mobile home when the narrator arrives. Take a guess at the ending. You guessed right, but you'll have to read it to see just how.

The final composition is the title piece, "Screw-Jack," and it is the most twisted and warped of the trio. It is a short love letter written by a madman, a character played so well by Thompson. The writing is so deranged that it was even necessary for the author to preface the character's words with an explanation for the madness from "The Editors."

In Screw-Jack, Hunter S. Thompson's desire to "drag the reader relentlessly up a hill, and then drop him off a cliff," is fulfilled. He originally published the stories in 1990 and 1991, but only printed about 300 copies of the book which included the second and third pieces. The stories have gone back to print now, in greater numbers, and thank you for that Mr. Thompson. Enjoy the ride. A
--Scott Taylor

IN BEAUTIFUL DISGUISES

by Rajeev Balasubramanyam

Everyone has fantasies, dreams of a better life. Perhaps you've sat in your cubicle at work with paperwork piled high on your desk and created little dreams of your own. Instead of being a corporate drone you transplant yourself into another scene. Your office-regulation pantsuit melts away into leather bell-bottoms, a macramé halter-top, and silver cowboy boots. You are standing in front of thousands of screaming fans as you grip a microphone and begin to wail the first few lines of Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire." The crowd works itself into a frenzy, and you smile because you've known all along you were never meant to be an office lackey. You were always meant to be a superstar.

In Beautiful Disguises, the first novel by 26-year-old Rajeev Balasubramanyam, explores this human tendency of creating inner fantasy to cope with less than pleasant life circumstance. The narrator of this slim novel is a 16-year-old girl living in India with her unemployed couch potato brother and alcoholic, violently abusive father. While this girl's brother is beaten repeatedly by the father, the girl finds comfort in the local movie house. In the air-conditioned sanctity of the theatre she can watch glamorous actresses dance their way through complicated plots. Every story she sees ends with a blissful ride into the sunset, and so she begins to believe that if only she could become an actress herself, she would also find a happy ending in her own otherwise miserable life.

Coming home from the movies one day, she discovers that her father has other plans in store for her. Her marriage has been arranged, and her future husband confronts her in a darkened room. Instead of having Clark Gable charm, he is unbearably crude. He doesn't even say "hello" before mashing his frighteningly large erection against her body.

This teenage girl knows she doesn't have a lot of options in life. Her father won't allow her to get an education and a job to support herself. Her choices are to marry the would-be rapist, commit suicide, or run away.

So she decides to run away to the big city and become a maid. Even while cleaning floors and hand-washing bales of laundry, she holds onto her dream. She might look like a maid on the outside (dirty, clad in rags), but on the inside she knows she is an actress, a star. She clings to her fantasies even while enduring the attacks of her new boss. Her dreams never die, and she never gives up hope.

So, the next time you're sitting in your cubicle at work feeling sorry for yourself because you're unappreciated and undiscovered as the musical superstar you truly are, remember that at least you have some choices in life. You may not be perfectly happy, but you do have options. You don't have to scrub toilets in India, and if worse comes to worse, hell, you can always quit and move on. B+
--Cecilia Johnson