Brock Clarke may very well have become one of my favorite fiction writers. I tried to be disciplined and not buy any new books lately because I need to buckle down with my dollars, but I had to splurge on “An Arsonist’s Guide to Writer’s Homes in New England”.
His reading was magnificent, which usually hooks me on buying the book even when I go with the intentions of not spending any money.
He reminded me of a poet giving a reading rather than most fiction writers. But upon reading the words for myself, I realize the lyrical quality is there, it wasn’t all just in his delivery. But all in all, I enjoyed it. Comparable to a Rick Bragg reading. That’s the best compliment I can give.
I only compare his reading to Bragg’s though because it was just so damn pleasurable to be in the audience. I don’t think there was a person there he left dissatisfied. I know of few writers who could say the same.
When I left, I took my son for a treat for being so well-behaved during the reading. I sat right down and devoured Clarke’s book while Jefferson indulged in a scoop of chocolate chip. Then, when I got home, I forsook all my other homework and crawled into bed with my treat and read myself to sleep.
Sadly enough, I couldn’t do the same tonite. Well, I might sneak in another chapter if I finish studying for my tests, but I couldn’t blow everything off and spend two hours with his novel. Unfortunately. But like I said, I can write about Wednesday and get my best reading buddies also on the Brock Clarke fan wagon, which enables me to keep gushing.
But I will always be energized by writers like Clarke who encourage you, with his superior work, to better yourself at your chosen craft.
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