Monday, February 22, 1999
Novel squirms of tedium, not titillation
BOOK: Author’s risque, graphic sexual exploits bears no style,
substance
By Michael Rosen-Molina
Daily Bruin Contributor
Considering the sheer number of starving writers out there, it
is nothing less than amazing that the trite "Dynamic Marches" can
get published. In addition to the two copies of the book, the
publishers also sent the Daily Bruin numerous letters telling us
not to review it.
Someone really wanted this book to be reviewed.
This dull and ultimately pointless novel hardly seems worth the
effort. Intended to shock the reader with graphic tales of bizarre
sex, it does little more than bore. Readers are always acutely
aware of just how desperately the author wants to be shocking.
According to an anonymous release, "Dynamic Marches" wants to be
shocking but is really nothing more than "tedious people having
nasty sex." Even that is too kind; it’s tedious people having
boring, vaguely disturbing sex. Insinuations of incest may make you
squirm uncomfortably, but they are hardly surprising nowadays. The
book’s only high points are some mildly amusing vegetable and
sausage masturbation scenes that might be fun to read to some
friends the next time you’re all bored. And drunk.
It’s difficult to describe "Dynamic Marches" without making it
sound like good sleazy fun. The threadbare plot consists of three
completely unrelated story lines. Charlotte is the obese daughter
of a multi-millionaire. Family politics force her to associate with
the three snobbiest, rich girls in her college. They drive between
frat parties, alternatively buying low-quality marijuana and
torturing new girl Charlotte.
Besides being unable to go five minutes without wolfing down a
sausage (no, not that way, you perv), Charlotte is also obsessed
with some obscure rock band called "Dynamic Marches." Rumor has it
that this is, in fact, a real rock band and, what is more, author
Eric Hexum is a member. Hexum is not at all subtle about how good
the band is, leading the astute reader to suspect that this entire
book was conceived as a thinly-disguised advertisement.
Meanwhile, John is an obsessive-compulsive bisexual fecophiliac
with halitosis. He plans a date with a flaky telemarketer he meets
in the hardware store, but ends up in a Taco Bell with the redneck
family from hell. He also has a thing for eating dried spit.
The final story is a short vignette about a young boy who gets a
very sensitive part of his anatomy stuck in a hole in a fence.
Hexum’s writing is consistently amateurish. Scenes intended to
evoke pathos will more likely be greeted by derisive laughter. A
roll of expired film launches a teary-eyed Charlotte into a
long-winded story about a friend with a wasting disease. The dying
boy cries out, "I’m going to heaven! Why are you crying, Mommy?
Heaven’s supposed to be a good place." Man, sorta gets ya right
there, don’t it? His dying wish (sniff) is that he just wants
everyone to be "haaaaaaaa-peeeeeee." The author kindly includes
little (coughs!) just to drive home the point that this kid is, you
know, like, dying. Heavy.
At times, Hexum completely abandons English, throwing in
sentences such as, "Next 30 min. = 3 more ejaculations." When you
are a famous writer, you can do stuff like that and people will
think it’s clever. Here, it sounds like a third-grader’s journal
essay where every sentence is followed by 10 exclamation marks.
It’s almost surprising that Hexum neglected to include little
frowny face emotions to clue us in when something sad is
happening.
Hexum’s concept of humor is to confuse Indians from India with
American Indians. All the characters are blatant cliches; this
might work in a humor book, but Hexum plays everything straight.
Charlotte writes horrible, maudlin poetry about being happy,
("Recipe for Happiness = 2 lbs. of love, 1 lb. of joy, 4
tablespoons of grace, a pinch of good luck, a dash of wit, a
seasoning of honesty, a splash of charm") but Hexum takes himself
so seriously that it is not clear if this was meant as satire.
There’s some sort of contrived controversy over the cover photo,
although one wonders why. Apparently, the stories are based on the
true lives of two families who would rather not remember their
past. This seems to be nothing more than another attempt to boost
sales.
A gang of junior high school kids might spend a sleepover
giggling about this book, but otherwise there is no use for it. The
best thing that can be said about "Dynamic Marches" is that it
gives you an excuse to use "masturbation" and "vegetable" in the
same sentence. Strangely, this book is classified under
"Inspirational."
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