A Manson book in which Manson is not even the most evil guy, but someone named DR. JOLLY is. Good example of how Pynchon was not exaggerating at all. I could not put this book down
Here are a few examples of when that has happened recently:
--Arnie Robles Jr by Paul Soto in nplusone
--That Girl by Addie Cichens in The New Yorker
--Social Promotion by Elijah Bailey in The Paris Review
--Ahegao by Tony Tulathimutte in The Paris Review
Alongside the sexist John and Yoko narrative, Boomers like to propagate a similar myth that Paul met Linda and lost some essential virility, became soy and unable to write good songs... in fact he remained the same rock and roll goofball he was before. Ram in particular is a delightful ode to shaggy domesticity-- you're cooking and drinking wine barefoot, there are babies and dogs running around. No wonder these Reaganite freaks didn't get it
