The Fuck-Up by Arthur NersesianFor the past week or so, the looped presentation that displays on the public TV screen in our library has been publicising the covers of a selection of new books. Included is Frankie Boyle's autobiography, "My Shit Life so Far". Given the usually prudish nature of our patrons, I'm pretty surprised that no-one's commented.. or maybe I'm the only person who's actually noticed? Either way, it slightly puts paid to my conviction that one of the best ways to create an eye-catching display is to pepper it liberally with foul language.
From this point of view, Arthur Nersesian's "The Fuck-Up" should be a godsend, and sure enough it's been a pretty steady issuer for us. Nersesian's slice of 80s New York lowlife was an enjoyable enough read: in the space of a few weeks the nameless narrator lies and cheats his way through a series of glamorous sexual liaisons, gets a job in a gay porn theatre and becomes a published poet, only to see everything crash to earth as he ends up wandering the streets alone as a vagrant. It's all a bit of a silly romp to start with, with not enough character development or vivid prose - the best part of the book comes at the end with Nersesian's flinchingly real description of the character's physical and emotional pain as his shattered body is unceremoniously dumped back to the lowest rung of New York society.
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