Dr. Frank's What's-it

Where's Captain Kirkus?

Kirkus is an important book review journal that is notorious for its anonymous, often quite snarky reviews. Almost since the beginning of the recent launch of my so-called literary career people have been warning me to brace myself for a possible Kirkus bloodbath, some even going so far as to console me in advance for the inevitable eviscerating review: don't worry, reviews don't matter that much, they'd say. It's word of mouth that sells books. You know who else got a bad review? Beethoven, that's who. Look it up.

So I was greatly relieved to discover that the Kirkus review of King Dork was favorable. Who knew? They even put a little star by it. So I felt like throwing a big party for myself, which I in fact did last night. It was great. You should have been there.

You have to be a subscriber to read the entire review on-line. I'm including the link to the review page here just to prove I'm not lying about the whole thing, but be warned (and I'm mainly talking to you, Manda) that the first line displayed on this page contains a minor spoiler. Here's the review, with the spoiler edited out:

A biting and witty high-school satire explores cross-generation mysteries and music. Tom Henderson is used to being a nobody, and entertains himself by designing band names: Baby Batter, Oxford English, Tennis with Guitars. Every year Tom’s teachers force him to read CATCHER IN THE RYE, the book that changed their lives. Though Tom scoffs at what he calls “the CATCHER cult,” the book is about to change *his* life, too, if not in Mr. Schtuppe-approved ways. Tom finds his dead father’s copy of CATCHER in a box of old books, chock-full of margin notes and mysterious scribbles. Further investigation reveals murder, suicide and illicit sex comprising both current and 40-year-old mysteries. Tom investigates his father’s past while forming a real (terrible) band, discovering blow jobs and surviving a skull fracture. He gains personal revelations that both reject and embrace his parents’ generation and its Holden Caulfields, in a story richly flavored with 1960s cult novels and 1970s rock-and-roll. The open-ended conclusion is unexpectedly satisfying.

Not bad. Saved me 350 bucks, too. Posted by Dr. Frank at March 15, 2006 07:55 PM | TrackBack