A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving #13
It’s obvious that I didn’t like this book much at all, and I’m sure you are on the edge of your seat wondering why this highly recommended book was just so awful for me.
This book was recommended by Triple G over at The Insatiable Book Sluts. That site is by far the funniest, and truthfully, the most thorough book review site I’ve ever seen. Not that I read a lot of them, but at the time I was getting desperate for new authors so I chose a bunch from their recommended reads.
So far it has not gone well for me. There was the Steve Martin fiasco, and now this. This book took me a long time to get through because I kept waiting for an actual effing story to unfold. The entire thing was meant to effectively lead up to a heroic end, but I just found the whole damn thing boring and monotonous. As a person who has been on the internet for years, a good chunk of it in forums and chat rooms, all caps seriously annoy the shit out of me. I mean drive me to-my-core bonkers. So to have the entire book talk in all caps when Owen Meany speaks is just too much.
The main character is obviously Owen Meany, the only interesting character in the book, and the secondary is the narrator, as Owen’s best friend. This is a story that could have, and probably should have, been a short story as there was so much more in there than ever needed to be. I even *gasp* skipped paragraphs as I was reading toward the end. This is a lifetime story of the narrator and I got sick of the flip-flopping between ‘now’ and ‘then’ so much that I often flitted over the ‘now’ (or skipped them altogether) and rolled my eyes again at the inaneness of the words being repeated on the page AGAIN. And the all caps, oh.my.God. the all caps.
So, this was easy. Normally I’d put down a crappy book I don’t like, but I’m challenging myself this year to woman-up and pull up my big girl panties and read. For this 543 page pile of recyclable paper, I’d almost not give it anything. Seriously, I’d give it zero G-String dollars, but I did like Owen Meany a bit so I’ll give it 2 G-String dollars. I would definitely not recommend this book to anybody but a literary professor in some college/university looking to drive students crazy.
It’s funny, I was more bothered to give a bad review to Steve Martin’s book than this one. Maybe because I don’t know the author’s other works to give him any credit? Possibly. But I won’t be bothered to look for anything from his vaults as I’d be too afraid HE’D TALK IN ALL CAPS AGAIN.