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Amo os filmes do Charlie Kaufman mas esse livro é péssimo! O personagem principal é um chato de galocha, com linhas de pensamento sem fim sobre assuntos imbecis. E ele é um cara a moda antiga mas ao mesmo tempo sobre preocupado em ser "woke". Chato, chato, chato!
What a slog this was. I’m still trying to understand how this mess got published, not to mention why the Amazon algorithms recommended this for me after reading David Mitchell’s Utopia Avenue.
There were a few very creative and funny sections, but overall I never understood where this was going. After 600 plus pages of loosely hung together short stories, the resolution came in the last half a chapter. The overall impression was the author was on deadline, had met the minimum page count, and hit send.
I admit to not reading the entire 90 chapters, but only a few. I think the narrative is so silly while I'm sure the author believes he's very clever. I like higher level thinking, but this read doesn't flatter my tastes. I was misled by high-sounding reviews.
Full disclosure, I'm a huge Charlie Kaufman fan, so I was excited to read this. Sadly, this novel just doesn't work. Honestly, it's not so much that the plot is nonsensical and the redundant and repeated puns annoying (though, this is all true), it's mostly that Antkind is dreadfully dull - the very opposite of a page turner. I thought it started out okay, but then it went downhill quickly. It was a chore to finish, but I rarely give up once I start reading something. I made it to the end, but I wish I had never started.
I was to the last pages of this 700+ page book, but decided to quit last night because the main character is nuts and this character has delusions in many different worlds. Each chapter is hard to figure out which world you are in. It's a waste of time. I gave it my best shot, waiting and waiting for it to get good. The only one good chapter is the one about Trump. At one point, the writing was so discombobulated, that I doubted my own sanity! I wondered if I was getting dementia, and this is how it rears it's ugly head. But no, I'm fine. It's the writing. Another review stated that he too, wondered about his own sanity. It's one of those books where you have to read some sentences over and over again to try to figure out what the author means. Forget it.
I really tried to give this book a fair chance. I was only able to read about a third of it before giving up. Not my cup of tea. I had no previous knowledge of who Charlie Kaufman is, but the writing in this book is so run-on and redundant that it is barely readable. The introspection that dominates the dialog reads like a bad Woody Allen movie without the humor. It's best summed up by a I'm-not-a-jew guy dealing very poorly with a stereotypical view of African Americans. Not even close to being hilarious.
This book makes me not want to create art. This novel heavily relies on style more so than substance throughout the entire 705 pages. The meandering and redundant plot becomes incomprehensible due to the shallow characters and self-referential passages referring to Kaufman's various works. Go watch Synecdoche, New York; Adaptation; or Being John Malkovich.
I gave up. I made it to chapter 15, about 125 pages. It's just going nowhere. I hate the protagonist. I didn't laugh once. I get it political correctness is annoying. I'm very disappointed. This is nothing like his movies. I just put it down today and asked myself "why am i putting myself through this?"
The worst “literary” novel I’ve ever read (I’ve enjoyed some of Kaufman’s movies, and I suppose I hoped it would ultimately go somewhere, so I read the entire mess). Pointless, horrifically self-indulgent (3 tedious, repetitive, unfunny parodies of Abbot and Costello—really?), incoherent, and self-congratulatory (Kaufman’s odious, benighted protagonist dislikes Kaufman’s films). A monumental waste of time.