rather a wearisomeness-caked point, but is anyone else irked (even to the
point of gnashing) by the cover of Macsweeney's Book of Demons, on the
hind part of which his personal difficulties and trials are pasted into a
shameless promotion of relevant poetic "life experience", just as on the
backs of Simon Armitage's books it was keenly stated that Si had worked -
relevantly to his provincial, non-ivorybound and variously authentic
personhood - as a probation officer? So now a new reader may, as
instructed, pick up and through the book merely because delighted to get
glimpses from "his" point of view, that of a curio. However candid BM is
in this and other works (pretty candid) about his alcoholism, he also
maintains an abrasive acuity in the face of its printed sensationalism and
in that way remains (mostly) accountable. But this, this cover, is pure
kick-ass hero-promo. Good book, though.
Keston
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