I’ve somehow been at a loss for something to read this past week. I had a crack at Tokyo Year Zero but the description of the murder victim’s skull gave me nightmares. I managed half of Dave Eggers’ The Circle then realised that each word was making me slightly more angry, turning me into a simmering hot pot of social networking hate. I finally resorted to Graeme Green’s The End of the Affair, supposedly a classic, they even made a Julianne Moore movie out of it. Alas it is read by Colin Firth, who stuffs it so full with nauseating Britishness (not in a good way) I began to see grey skies, drizzle, tea cosies and stiff upper lips everywhere.
Then I stumbled on to Double Feature at Keyframe. Sounds rad.
I don’t know what I was expecting from Owen King’s debut novel, Double Feature, but I wasn’t expecting to laugh so hard that my eyebrows hurt. But I did. I laughed that hard. I’m not sure why the impact on my eyebrows was so immediate and intense. Maybe because they’d jump up at certain scenes in the novel and then ride the rising waves shooting from the lower half of my face.
Double Feature is a many-headed comic monster. Its concerns are varied; it’s hilarious first and foremost, but it’s also a heartbreaking and poignant meditation on the vagaries of art. The sweep of the novel is epic: we jump around within a 40-year window, though most of the action is set between 2002 and 2003 and in 2011. Our main character is Sam Dolan, serious film student, aiming — when we first see him — to turn a script he’s written, Who We Are, into a meaningful indie film.
Audiobook is downloading.
Thanks Internetz but hurry up!