Day 222: Toad

My internet is out due to a storm so I'm forced to write this review on mobile. Apologies if it's a little worse for wear.

Katherine Dunn has one of the most provocative writing styles I've ever read. The introduction to 'Toad' describes her as a master of the sucker punch sentence. I didn't understand what that meant at first but I can tell you now it's definitely true.

'She was all high arches and soft pink heels. Her toes were rosh and clean. She bent a knee and swayed, lifted knee foot at a right angle to the other, and gently, precisely, set her glowing toes down on a tight little roll of dog shit.'

This example sticks out the most in my mind, but there are hundreds if not thousands of these throughout the novel. Her method of drawing the reader in before kicking them right in the shins, over and over and over again sets the stage for a brutal novel. It perfectly suits the squalid living conditions that the main character Sally Gunhar lives in with her friends Sam and Carlotta (the dancer from the excerpt above). Relived moments from Sally's youth are all covered in drying cat crap, dirt, mold, and worse. Sam and Carlotta are the most enthusiastic kind of 1960s hippie, happy to go years without a bath, drive a car held together by hopes and dreams, and talk out of their asses about philosophy and good living practice late into the night while their house degenerates around them because the cats won't stop peeing on the floorboards.

While Sally has come to live devoid of almost any friendship or family besides her goldfish later in life, it's apparent from her memories with Sam and Carlotta that this is a huge upgrade. She keeps her house very clean, and nobody is around to judge her when she does decide to get a little slovenly. She loves herself and the things she has and even the few friendships with passing salesmen, once-a-month meetups, and her sister who rarely visits. At first you feel bad for her, but find as the book goes on that she is indeed in a better place in life. From a terribly abusive childhood up through a misspent youth, Sally has managed to carve a small slice of the world away for herself and live simply and happily. It's uplifting in a strange, kinda sad way. My biggest takeaway from this novel is that things could definitely be worse, but even if they were, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

Thank you for reading,

Benjamin Hawley