|About the Book|
It took me less time to read Ciceros book than it takes to watch a Blockbuster movie. About an hour. It was way cheaper too, since I found it on my friends bookshelf, placed there by another reader/writers recommendation. I took the book to the park down the street in Brooklyn and read it sitting alone listening to traffic and Puerto Rican children playing and waiting for the ice cream man.The first 100 pages are about the days in a life of a pregnant stripper and the people interacting with her. Reading about her life of drugs and misery is a pornographic train wreck, but a compelling one nonetheless. It gives a glimpse of reality that most people try hard not to acknowledge in, perhaps, the avoidance of some chaotic feeling of dread in the face of disparity.For people who have not experienced poverty, first or second hand, or a look into the life of the real working class (aside from being serviced by them or not exchanging eye contact on the subway) this book will probably make you feel uncomfortable and maybe even read as vulgar, misogynistic, or asinine in some parts.To others, like me, coming from a small town, witnessing first hand and learning to respect ways in which people survive with tools like drugs, sex, and/or hard work amidst the confusion of Christian conditioning, theres a sad familiarity in identifying with the characters- a familiarity which chips away defense mechanisms tempting to make life easier with subtle, or dramatic, renderings of denial. (Its good to know who we are in order to become better people as a whole, or individually, which also leads to a better whole.)The rest of Ciceros novel was just as interesting, but not recommended for people who are only into pop radio, or men who spend too much time comparing the girls they date to their mothers.