The idea of randomly handing money to people has a certain romantic charm, and Mr. Plus it really goes to the core of how it feels to be a relatively priviledged person today, who knows that he should be trying to help less fortunate people, but has absolutely no idea how to really go about doing that. And this book is a perfect summary and explanation of that feeling. This idea that every moment that you arent experiencing something new you are wasting your life.I know that isn't true, but I feel it too sometimes. I identified very strongly with these characters, and this blind desire to keep moving, and have only important, true, enlightening experiences. It's like a movie where you know they are trying to make you cry, and you do cry, and then feel bad about it because you know that they played you like a fiddle.īut as much as I'd like to resist it, I am a fiddle and this book played me. It just seems so blatantly directed at exactly who I am, a late 20's person confused about what direction to take in life.
I could be taken and eaten by these wet alleyways without protest.I'm a little torn here, because I feel like I was supposed to like this book, so part of me wants to pretend that I didn't like it.
I had been on a plane! A tiny percentage of all those who'd ever lived would ever be on an airplane- and had seen Africa rushing at me like something alive and furious. The rock-running in Senegal was enough, the kids and their bonjours- that alone would prepare me for the end if I couldn't be thankful enough having been there I was sick and ungrateful, and I would not be ungrateful, not ever, I would always know the gifts given me, I would count them and keep them safe! I had had so much so I would be able to face the knife in the alley and accept it all, smiling serenely, thankful that I'd be taken while riding the very crest of everything. To be ready you need to be tired, and you need to have seen a great deal, or what you consider to have been a great deal- we all have such different capacities, are able to absorb and sustain vastly different quantities of visions and pain- and at that moment I started thinking that I had seen enough, that in general I'd had my fill and that in terms of visual stimulation the week thus far has shown me enough and that I was sated.
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