The Importance of Being Oscar - RNC Karaoke

Junot Diaz is some sort of god. Maybe only a demi-god, but he is certainly an extra-planar creature of extraordinary power. His first collection, "Drown", has become a landmark work of short fiction, and certainly deserves to be mentioned along side "The Pugilist at Rest" and "Jesus' Son" whenever one talks about 1990s short story collections. Also, "Oscar Wao" is remarkable because it is Diaz's second book, and his first novel. The eleven year gap between the publication of "Drown" and "Oscar Wao", coupled with the enormous amount of praise both works have received only serves to further Daiz's reputation as the great literary Tarrasque (878 hp!) of our time.

I'm not going to spoil any plots for you or enter into a lengthy analysis of the novel's structure or use of language. We'll let the TLS and Raritan perform those duties. I only come here to worship at this masterpiece's altar. So without any further adieu: I LOVED, LOVED, LOVED, LOVED THIS BOOK.

Novels like this and Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay make me shake my head and drop my pen. The craftsmanship is astonishing, the emotional weight of soul is present in every sentence and every footnote. At no time do I recall ever pausing to question an element of the narrative or demand more in terms of character or thematic element. Quite honestly, I just didn't give a shit. I was entranced. John Gardner would be proud- Diaz created a vivid and continuous dream. To be even more blunt, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao contains 0% bullshit.

As a recovering gamer nerd, there were times where I alternately wanted to jump into this book and throttle characters' for their life decisions and lick the ink off the pages in hopes of transferring some of Diaz's wordsmithian mana to me. I'm also proud of the fact that Diaz doesn't stop to explain any of the D&D or Sci-Fi terms- you have to roll with it. He does, however, give ample footnotes on Dominican history and culture. Doing this allows the reader's intellectual focus to stay rooted in his characters' cultural background while the Spanglish and D&D neologisms propel the narrative forward with a voice that is unique, honest, and nerdily hip... Shit. I broke my promise of not turning this post into an analysis. Oh well, fuck it. We're done here. Go out and buy this goddamn book. If you hate it, don't tell me because I'll probably just call you an artless imbecile and throw my Dungeon Master's Guide at your head.
~~~

In perhaps the best story I'd heard regarding the RNC malarkey that invaded my fair cities, Todd, whiskey improvisario at The Local and the best bartender in Minneapolis/St. Paul sang several Allman Brother's tunes with Governor Bod R. Riley of Alabama. I curse my job and other writing projects (they don't write themselves, I've come to discover) for keeping me away from what truly must have been a spectacle.

Picture this: Todd keeps licking his wine-sodden mustache in a reflex to keep from throwing Jameson bottles at GOP skulls. An affable drunk southerner approaches, introduces himself, and the two experience a communion of souls:

Todd: What will you be having, sir?
Da Guv: Double Woodford with a Guinness back.
Todd: Ah, a man after my own heart. Unfortunalty we no longer carry Woodford Reserve.
Da Guv: That's a bunch of bullshit. Gimme Makers then.
Todd: *smiling* Beutiful.

The Allman Brothers song "Melissa" comes on.

Da Guv: Turn that up!
Todd: Yes, sir! *turns the volume to ridiculous levels, even with the crowded bar* Crossroads -- will you ever let him go...
Da Guv: ...or will you hide the dead man's ghost?

Todd and Da Guv lock eyes. In the space of a half a second, they see each others lives: the car rides and beer busts and getting to third base with Mary Jo down by the old fishin' creek.

Both, loudly, in unison: Lord, will he lie beneath the clay, or will his spirit float away?

The whole bar is staring, but nobody is going to interrupt this. Todd and Da Guv sing the rest of "Melissa" and follow it up with "Ramblin Man" and "Whipping Post". When they finish, Todd grabs his lowball of whiskey he's stashed under the bar and raises it up in a toast with Da Guv.

Todd: Do you like football, sir?
Da Guv: ROLL TIDE, MOTHERFUCKER!

They laugh and drink. It's all on security camera, and neither cares.
~~~
On Sunday, dear readers, the Showerbeer Blog will review the patty melt offerings at Mickey's Dining Car, a greasy Minneapolis institution. Also, the first of Clubby the Seal's q&a/advice column "Ask a Pinniped" will appear.

Saturdays are sacred to us at the Showerbeer Blog, and while we can't disclose what we'll be doing, you can rest assured that it will help to save the world. 'Til Sunday, we leave you with this, the sexiness that is Shane McGowan: