Spoiler

I went down to my grandma's on the weekend with my brother, which gave me the chance to finish off the book I'd been trying to read for six weeks but had been interrupted by my involvement in the local Witch of Portobello Experiment (our team did Heron's Story. I'll post the youtube clip for the entry I worked on when it's up online) and throwing together two films for Kino Sydney, Cut Off, directed by me, and Mine Demons, Mine Own, the Surgical Sideshow collaboration directed by Victoria.

Anyway, the book I'd been trying to read was Karoo by Steve Tesich. Generally, it's an entertaining story, but it started off so masterfully that I thought I was reading some kind of new american classic. Then the ending died in a hole in a way that you can't help comparing to James Joyce and finding rather sparse and angsty in comparison. It's such a shame because most of the book was really enjoyable, then Tesich goes and ruins it. I spent about two hours cursing him for coming up with such an indulgent wank of an ending.

Still, you should read it. At the very least, so that I have someone to commiserate with.