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US Mall 1 - Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto
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List Price: $14.00
Our Price: $6.68
Your Save: $ 7.32 ( 52% )
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Manufacturer: Scribner
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Average Customer Rating:  
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Binding: Paperback
Dewey Decimal Number: 306.0973
EAN: 9780743236010
ISBN: 0743236017
Label: Scribner
Manufacturer: Scribner
Number Of Items: 1
Number Of Pages: 272
Publication Date: 2004-06-22
Publisher: Scribner
Studio: Scribner
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Spotlight customer reviews:
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Customer Rating:
Summary: Philosophy for shallow people . . .
Comment: This is the clichéd, set-off-on-its-own, introductory statement of an essay.
Here's the real start of the essay, in which dwells somewhat of a thesis. Mostly, though, this paragraph just starts the namedropping of and references to esoteric music or movies or sports figures. Expect this trend to continue through the whole piece. It's just like David Bowie stealing Scott Walker's shtick and scarf collection and running with it. Let's all just assume that makes sense, even though it only tangentially relates.
Well, here we are at a paragraph in the middle 80% of the essay. Would you like some more nerdy humor that resides about a step in either direction away from your favorite obscure BBC show (and you thought I couldn't get a sideways reference to Absolutely Fabulous into this review! Silly you) that means so much to your life? And nothing here would be complete without a footnote that serves the same purpose as a parenthetical aside, only it disguises what's being said in some sort of intellectual cloak. Pretend there's a little "1" next to some word in this paragraph, just like we'll all pretend that Dangerous Toys didn't make any albums past their 1990 debut. Did I just randomly mention some forgotten 80's sleeze-metal band in hopes of being recognized for my unabashed love for that particular style of music? I guess I did. How postmodern. In fact, it's so postmodern that the word "postmodern" will show up throughout the whole book in what looks to be a unifying theme, but really just ends up being some buzzword to fall back on when discussing the concept of "reality." For all the bashing of renowned hippie-school Evergreen, there sure is a lot of the same pointless, quasi-existential wandering going on here.
That, of course, leads nicely into the "philosophy for shallow people" (Klosterman's phrase, not mine). Whereas it's actually pretty amusing and much more telling of an actual point to write about the personal anecdotes that relate to the topic at hand (The Real World, cereal, the Celtics/Lakers rivalry, etc), this paragraph will try to speak for an entire group of people in an attempt to decipher the hidden depth of things that supposedly have no depth. This will go on for pages, peppered with faux-modest shoulder-shrugs, profanity-placement more akin to that of a 13-year-old, and the unrelenting pop-culture references that never stop just like Sylvester Stallone never stops chewing on a wooden match in Cobra (not bad, eh?). While not being hypocritical, the writing here will have to be opinionated, yet noncommittal. Or maybe that's unfair and the information just isn't proven correctly. The oddly-preferred method of trying to measure up the effect of Billy Joel on a generation--as opposed to one person (the self)--is going backwards, but let's stick with it anyways. This middle part will continue as a retarded ideology maelstrom that consists of equal parts irony, authenticity, rock `n' roll, and all of their opposites.
Oh, the end. Before the last words, we'll need to slip some middle-finger comments in about how all the other experts and academics and iconoclasts that diverge from you and I are all missing-the-point, full of (quite possibly their own) s***, and leading a life that is based on the wrong kind of stuff, respectively. Finally, we'll tie this all together, but only after realizing that there really isn't that much to say about the chosen theme. At least not anymore than can be found in the blog of a snarky, jaded dude with an English degree who wants to feel as if the hours he's spent reading about serial killers wasn't all for naught. End with a quirky little last line that simultaneously asks for a disregarding of the entire essay as well as a faithful embrace of it.
*************
That's exactly what all of the essays in this collection read like, of course, and while the formula isn't criminal, the execution is. There's no problem with the idea of pop-culture having an effect on someone's life, and there's certainly nothing wrong with dissecting it on a personal level. I just feel that it can be done better. As a snarky, jaded dude with an English degree who wants to feel as if the hours he's spent absorbing the same sort of stuff as Klosterman, I wanted to relate to him by hearing about him, not by hearing about us (Chuck Klosterman, Ryan Werner, and anyone else that's between the ages of 23 and 38). Effective writing almost always works to achieve the universal through the personal, not the universal through the universal. If you want to talk about God, you don't just talk about God. You start at the car wash and work your way to God. I'm only sort of saying that Klosterman is a lazy writer, and it's not even the prose that really bothers me. To write about pop culture's place in regard to the question of "what does it all mean?" (or, as the book prefers, "What is reality?") means a direct pathway through the person explaining it, with the conclusions left to be drawn by the reader.
I liked this collection a bit more than I'm letting on, but it certainly doesn't sit well after turning the last page. Klosterman tried to tell me what I know, and he was usually wrong. However, if he had just told me what he knows, I couldn't have been convinced otherwise, regardless of whether or not I agreed with it.
Customer Rating:
Summary: Easy to get swept away
Comment: While the language used is simple, giving an appropriate amount of time to the concepts presented required me to set it down and think for a few hours in between chapters. I am torn by this novel. Klosterman is the pied piper of popular culture. I found myself easily drifting towards his school of thought without any protest or hesitation. However, when I finally scrutinized the ideas he was presenting, I realized that I didn't agree with about half of what he was saying. I don't think that the power of the internet and technology is exemplified in amateur porn, but rather a grandfather texting, or youtube.
As an artist I am jealous of pop stars and icons. Beyonce will have an opportunity to reach millions more than my art will. For this reason I wanted to read this book. I wanted a serious dissection of popular culture. For the most part, I got it. I loved the sections on The Sims and cover bands. I found those to be the most interesting and have the most implications to my life.
I would recommend this book to those who think that pop culture has nothing valid to offer, or those who are obsessed with pop culture. I don't know if I would give it to anyone in between.
Customer Rating:
Summary: Not bad, not good, definitely not great
Comment: To be completely honest, I didn't read the whole thing because it became repetitive and fell short of my initital expectations. What might pass for witty remarks and insightfullness for others never seemed to me to be much more than the random thoughts of a pop-psychologist. Don't get me wrong, I'd much rather read Klosterman than any of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books to be found in the self-help genre of pop psychology, but I still have a hard time accepting life wisdom from someone whose life experince and life credentials are unimpressive. But maybe I am missing the point. I often do. Klosterman's intent could simply be to entertain rather than to provide real human understanding. And for some readers, I have no doubt they will find these musings to be entertaining.
Customer Rating:
Summary: Fun Book
Comment: I love the style of writing in this book. I like the many cultural references. The narration is excellent and easy to follow. Great and fast shipping.
Customer Rating:
Summary: ...
Comment: *rolls eyes* could not even finish this book. One of the worst books I have ever picked up.
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Editorial Reviews:
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Customer Rating:
Summary: Philosophy for shallow people . . .
Comment: This is the clichéd, set-off-on-its-own, introductory statement of an essay.
Here's the real start of the essay, in which dwells somewhat of a thesis. Mostly, though, this paragraph just starts the namedropping of and references to esoteric music or movies or sports figures. Expect this trend to continue through the whole piece. It's just like David Bowie stealing Scott Walker's shtick and scarf collection and running with it. Let's all just assume that makes sense, even though it only tangentially relates.
Well, here we are at a paragraph in the middle 80% of the essay. Would you like some more nerdy humor that resides about a step in either direction away from your favorite obscure BBC show (and you thought I couldn't get a sideways reference to Absolutely Fabulous into this review! Silly you) that means so much to your life? And nothing here would be complete without a footnote that serves the same purpose as a parenthetical aside, only it disguises what's being said in some sort of intellectual cloak. Pretend there's a little "1" next to some word in this paragraph, just like we'll all pretend that Dangerous Toys didn't make any albums past their 1990 debut. Did I just randomly mention some forgotten 80's sleeze-metal band in hopes of being recognized for my unabashed love for that particular style of music? I guess I did. How postmodern. In fact, it's so postmodern that the word "postmodern" will show up throughout the whole book in what looks to be a unifying theme, but really just ends up being some buzzword to fall back on when discussing the concept of "reality." For all the bashing of renowned hippie-school Evergreen, there sure is a lot of the same pointless, quasi-existential wandering going on here.
That, of course, leads nicely into the "philosophy for shallow people" (Klosterman's phrase, not mine). Whereas it's actually pretty amusing and much more telling of an actual point to write about the personal anecdotes that relate to the topic at hand (The Real World, cereal, the Celtics/Lakers rivalry, etc), this paragraph will try to speak for an entire group of people in an attempt to decipher the hidden depth of things that supposedly have no depth. This will go on for pages, peppered with faux-modest shoulder-shrugs, profanity-placement more akin to that of a 13-year-old, and the unrelenting pop-culture references that never stop just like Sylvester Stallone never stops chewing on a wooden match in Cobra (not bad, eh?). While not being hypocritical, the writing here will have to be opinionated, yet noncommittal. Or maybe that's unfair and the information just isn't proven correctly. The oddly-preferred method of trying to measure up the effect of Billy Joel on a generation--as opposed to one person (the self)--is going backwards, but let's stick with it anyways. This middle part will continue as a retarded ideology maelstrom that consists of equal parts irony, authenticity, rock `n' roll, and all of their opposites.
Oh, the end. Before the last words, we'll need to slip some middle-finger comments in about how all the other experts and academics and iconoclasts that diverge from you and I are all missing-the-point, full of (quite possibly their own) s***, and leading a life that is based on the wrong kind of stuff, respectively. Finally, we'll tie this all together, but only after realizing that there really isn't that much to say about the chosen theme. At least not anymore than can be found in the blog of a snarky, jaded dude with an English degree who wants to feel as if the hours he's spent reading about serial killers wasn't all for naught. End with a quirky little last line that simultaneously asks for a disregarding of the entire essay as well as a faithful embrace of it.
*************
That's exactly what all of the essays in this collection read like, of course, and while the formula isn't criminal, the execution is. There's no problem with the idea of pop-culture having an effect on someone's life, and there's certainly nothing wrong with dissecting it on a personal level. I just feel that it can be done better. As a snarky, jaded dude with an English degree who wants to feel as if the hours he's spent absorbing the same sort of stuff as Klosterman, I wanted to relate to him by hearing about him, not by hearing about us (Chuck Klosterman, Ryan Werner, and anyone else that's between the ages of 23 and 38). Effective writing almost always works to achieve the universal through the personal, not the universal through the universal. If you want to talk about God, you don't just talk about God. You start at the car wash and work your way to God. I'm only sort of saying that Klosterman is a lazy writer, and it's not even the prose that really bothers me. To write about pop culture's place in regard to the question of "what does it all mean?" (or, as the book prefers, "What is reality?") means a direct pathway through the person explaining it, with the conclusions left to be drawn by the reader.
I liked this collection a bit more than I'm letting on, but it certainly doesn't sit well after turning the last page. Klosterman tried to tell me what I know, and he was usually wrong. However, if he had just told me what he knows, I couldn't have been convinced otherwise, regardless of whether or not I agreed with it.
Customer Rating:
Summary: Easy to get swept away
Comment: While the language used is simple, giving an appropriate amount of time to the concepts presented required me to set it down and think for a few hours in between chapters. I am torn by this novel. Klosterman is the pied piper of popular culture. I found myself easily drifting towards his school of thought without any protest or hesitation. However, when I finally scrutinized the ideas he was presenting, I realized that I didn't agree with about half of what he was saying. I don't think that the power of the internet and technology is exemplified in amateur porn, but rather a grandfather texting, or youtube.
As an artist I am jealous of pop stars and icons. Beyonce will have an opportunity to reach millions more than my art will. For this reason I wanted to read this book. I wanted a serious dissection of popular culture. For the most part, I got it. I loved the sections on The Sims and cover bands. I found those to be the most interesting and have the most implications to my life.
I would recommend this book to those who think that pop culture has nothing valid to offer, or those who are obsessed with pop culture. I don't know if I would give it to anyone in between.
Customer Rating:
Summary: Not bad, not good, definitely not great
Comment: To be completely honest, I didn't read the whole thing because it became repetitive and fell short of my initital expectations. What might pass for witty remarks and insightfullness for others never seemed to me to be much more than the random thoughts of a pop-psychologist. Don't get me wrong, I'd much rather read Klosterman than any of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books to be found in the self-help genre of pop psychology, but I still have a hard time accepting life wisdom from someone whose life experince and life credentials are unimpressive. But maybe I am missing the point. I often do. Klosterman's intent could simply be to entertain rather than to provide real human understanding. And for some readers, I have no doubt they will find these musings to be entertaining.
Customer Rating:
Summary: Fun Book
Comment: I love the style of writing in this book. I like the many cultural references. The narration is excellent and easy to follow. Great and fast shipping.
Customer Rating:
Summary: ...
Comment: *rolls eyes* could not even finish this book. One of the worst books I have ever picked up.
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