4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Lummox is Blurb-tastic!, February 20, 2002
This review is from: Lummox: The Evolution of a Man (Hardcover)
One word: Lummox. One more: Sincerity. Attention Amazon shoppers, talent has struck. This "Lummox" hangs in the mind as only the best literature does: Magnuson's world is a deep wood with wildlife in it. Put your money down and buy this book! Help!
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
All The World Loves a Lummox, February 17, 2002
This review is from: Lummox: The Evolution of a Man (Hardcover)
No work in fiction today better personifies the aimlessness for those few unbuttoned-down men of the 1980's than the beer-slopped story of Mike Magnuson's early life.
Told with the bipolar relish of the third person, the book leads from one gutbusting failure to another, until finally, on a happy note, Mike ends up in jail for the weekend for attempting to steal "the hand of God". For once, the beer and weed flush from his system, and he is able to structure a lucid plan to do something great when he finds a beat-up paperback of Rollerball in the cellblock. Like JohnBoy Walton, Mike decides to become a writer.
Of course, life is never so simple. With profanity and defecation emitting at every turn of phrase, Mike's story is the path many a man would take if not for the restraints of religion, sobriety, commonsense good judgment, or a capable woman holding a paramount place in their lives. You just know the next "opportunity" will lead to greater heartache, hangover and intestinal blithering; but Mike presses on with his brilliance in the background and his dead-end job at the forefront of his greasy shirt.
Mike's Lummox is the guy of Dave Barry, the guy who pops in when the bottlecap twists off and the potato chip bag is opened, the guy who had no war to fight but would have wanted to join the VFW for pitcher night anyway, the guy who changes his own oil on his gravel driveway and fills his deertag every year, the guy who would sell his drums before borrowing a few bucks, and the guy who spouts Shakespeare and airdrums at the bar when the music is fast, the air is blue, and the company is 'Oh so perfect'. He is the guy of Drew Carey, the guy your dad talked about from the nightshift, and the guy George W. shouldn't want to meet, again.
Yes, in person and in his book, he is that guy. And his profanity-ridden story is a must for anyone who thinks they know anything about the 80's, factories or what it means to be a selfish clod in search of the good times. Read it, because you want to, not because somebody says you have to.
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5 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Don't judge a book by its cover, December 24, 2004
This review is from: Lummox: The Evolution of a Man (Hardcover)
In fairness to Magnusson, I picked this up at a store that specializes in remainders and doesn't always have very clear organization. It was in the fiction section, and I was expecting a novel. Yes, endorsement copy on the dust jacket uses the world 'memoir,' but given the rest of the packaging, and the section of the store, my mind glossed over this detail.
Since the author writes of himself in the third person, at first it's curious that he'd cast a character with his own name, and I was well into it when I realzied the intent was a memoir (albeit with some fictionalizaton and composite characters for the sake of pace and to protect the innocent).
The jacket copy, comparing it to 'A Confederacy of Dunces' and David Sedaris is unfair. It sets up an unrealistically high expectation in the reader, to my mind.
What this reminded me of is Chris Offut's 'The Same River Twice,' which is not an unflattering comparison. And 'Lummox' does the two things I think good writing has to do, make you laugh and break your heart. At a couple of points I was ready to put it down and would come to a point that was hilarious, or a moment of unbelievable tragedy.
And a lot of the details that Magnusson has of his childhood (he's a few years older than me, but I grew up in essentially the same environment), are very well chosen. Husky jeans, for instance, which I hadn't thought about for twenty-five years, were such a pure stigma when I went through grade school, just telling us he wore them tells 50 pages worth of childhood trauma. I had a gradeschool chum who wore Huskies, and the only thing that could have been worse would be if K-Mart had sold a 'Kick Me' line of clothing.
Some of the confessions made fall under Gordon Lisch's rule of writing about the worst thing you've ever done. That's probably the best thing about 'Lummox,' we've all done things we shouldn't have, often with terrible consquence, but not all of us will confess it after a pitcher of beer, much less in print.
But if the cover of the book is misleading, maybe that's part of the point. What ultimately emerges is a portrait of a guy who might project an image being uneducated, lethargic, and insensitive -- an image covering someone who is well educated, an avid cyclist, and has, as Magnusson describes it, 'the heart of a pussy.'
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