We stopped at a little free library on the side of the road to dump off an obscene amount of trashy books in the hopes that someone (not us) would love them anew. I love a little free library at baseline, but a vacation little free library is ESPECIALLY alluring, so of course I poked my head in and foiled the getting-rid-of-books mission by picking up a new book, The Monkey’s Mask by Dorothy Porter. Nobody had ever mentioned it, but the inside flap really snagged me— here it is.
My usual qualm with poetry is that I don’t understand it, and therefore feel like a doofus. My experience with learning to interpret poetry in school has felt squarely unsatisfying, like an attempt to make reading a formula. No more math in our English classes… we are tired… I desperately want to like poetry, but it’s hard not to want to know absolutely everything about what you’re reading, and I get annoyed when things are left open to interpretation, because I just want to know all the proper details in as many words as it takes. The idea of a novel told in the form of poetry seemed like an opportune way to convert myself, because the poems come together to mean something, rather than each being their own scattered assortment of words.
The Monkey’s Mask was published in 1994 by an Australian author, and it’s billed as a crime thriller in poetry form. The main character, Jill Fitzpatrick, is a lesbian private investigator who finds work looking for Mickey, a missing 19-year-old. Mickey is (was) an aspiring poet and an author of painfully graphic poetry, which she turns in to her teacher, Diana. The book was significantly less about the murder mystery than it was about Jill’s relationship with Diana, with CHAPTERS more sex than the blurb let on.
Fascinated (by the blurb, not by the rampant attempts at erotica), I spent my very first day back from a week of vacation with 14 people alone in my own home reading this book. While it was happening, I was ENTRANCED. 30 pages in, I was going to post on my story that EVERYONE should read this book because it goes by so fast and it’s trashy characters in classy prose— all bases covered. The poetry doesn’t feel like poetry, it’s not rife with literary devices and double entendres, it just feels like sparse storytelling. It’s a nice experience— the story moves so quickly because it’s told in so few words. You can never tell how much time is elapsing between poems, and it’s a relief that it doesn’t matter at all and nobody will quiz us on it. A quarter through, I was gearing up to add this to my list of favorite books.
Alas, towards the end, the only thing keeping me going was the promise of the story being over soon. It felt like I had been reading a sort of doomed romance, and then the author had veered off track and remembered the murder part and tied it up in 5 pages. In some sense, it’s cool that we are as sucked into the love story as the private investigator, neglecting the task at hand. That part was effective. The rapid conclusion, though, was not my favorite. When I was reading the story before I knew what happened, I had to keep going to find out, but as soon as I knew, I was like Oh. It’s a fairly cut and dry story, and the plotline itself, without the special format and such, would not have drawn my attention. A big facet of the intended shock value is that the reader is SCANDALIZED by the RISQUÉ SEXUAL BEHAVIOR!!! I’m sure this packed a punch to a few people in the 90s, but now it’s hard to clutch your pearls at an extramarital affair.
Having solved the mystery and become immune to spoilers, I took myself to the web to see what the public thought of this strangely paced sort-of-erotica-sort-of-mystery. First, I discovered that it’s been made into a movie, which got 43% on Rotten Tomatoes. Second, I read a plot summary to make sure I got it all right, only to discover I DID NOT? But then. I realized all the plot summaries were of the movie, not of the book. So has anyone ever read this book???? YES, said Goodreads, and they all predicted the ending immediately. At risk of forfeiting my own bragging rights, I did not, but I rarely do. Here are some selected reviews.
This book did not teach me to love poetry, nor did it leave me with the satisfaction of a well-crafted mystery, but I do think it contained some gems and might be worth a read. It will only take an hour, as each page has approximately 3 words on it. Ideal for anyone who wants to look like an intellectual on public transportation the easy way. Three stars.
To offset the negativity of the above review, here is some media I have been loving
Austin Powers. I LOVE International Man of Mystery and I have a CD of the Goldmember soundtrack, but until yesterday I had never seen The Spy Who Shagged Me! This is how I learn that Shrek and Fat Bastard have the same voice… because they’re the same guy…
The Godfather (book). I’ve seen the movie in snippets, but the book captures the Italianness of it all so well. Not done but loving so far.
Me Before You. Got me fucked up!!!! Cried and I don’t even cry. Emotionally devastating, very good book
That is all from me…. Bye for now!!!!