Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi

Book 4 of 155 was Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi by Geoff Dyer. I had very little to go on when I picked this book up from the library, but it was the opposite from what I expected.

I'll start by saying this: the book was completely pointless. My own fault was assuming that when the Powell's staffer said that it had everything- sex, drugs, death... that this would be interesting. It wasn't. Rather than have a mystery or conflict or even a plot, the book languishes in nothingness, in the meaninglessness of the disenchanted. Maybe that was the point.

First of all, when the book began, it seemed... whiny. I felt like the main character was going to be a complainer right from the beginning. I was, it turns out, right. The main character (Jeff)is a mid forties journalist that seems to have a life in the gray area- no highlights, nothing particularly terrible... just a life where he wants more, but doesn't mind his pseudo-life enough to change anything. Briefly, during the middle of the book, he meets this girl and everything is wonderful!... and then it's over. No reference back to this relationship- the book abruptly switched from Jeff's cocktails parties, graphic sex scenes, and intermittent drug use to the dingy, crowded, poor streets of Varanasi, India. Jeff is no longer the main character, though the narrator in this half is also a journalist.

The new main character, never named (that I noticed) is very like Jeff in many ways... living a life in the gray. He's sent to Varanasi for work, and decides to keep living there because his flat in London is rented out, earning him enough money to keep living in squalor in India. He also graphically describes being violently ill in a way that made me sick to my stomach. It was gross for the sake of being gross. He doesn't have to do anything, be anywhere- nothing. The book ends and pointlessly as it began.

Also, on a personal note, there are no chapters- just the two sections of the book. I suppose, from an editing perspective, this keeps with the theme of the book- the days melding together into one long journal entry- but for me, it was plain irritating. Had the book been better, I might have appreciated this as a part of Geoff Dyer's artistic license, but instead, it just annoyed me.

Now, to be fair- Geoff Dyer is talented. His writing is skilled, though I didn't like the topic. His illustrations are amusing and insightful, and wish that I hadn't been so distracted by hating a great portion of the book. Yes, I used the word- I hated the book. Even now, my lip is curled back in disgust. Bleccccccch. But, still trying to be fair, his writing in and of itself, an entity separate from the actual "plot", was compelling and interesting. He even slips in quotes from plays, movies, authors, and music that only someone reading very closely would notice. His credit to these quotes comes in his acknowledgements, and occasionally when a character notices that someone is dropping movie lines. That was a fun side note that I did enjoy.

So why did someone pick this book as their FAVORITE book of 2009? Personally, I don't know. Objectively? My best guess is this: the book embraces itself wholly. Geoff Dyer decides to make it one of life, graphic and crude as it may be, and stays true to that. I can imagine that this, in and of itself, attracts an audience that appreciates descriptive accounts of the world. Some times it was funny, others it was crass- but I know that people appreciate this too- I'm just not one of them.

If you've read this, do you disagree? Am I alone in my view of this? Let me know what you think!