Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Tread Lightly and Stop to Take Pictures, September 6, 2004
It took me three tries to get out of the basket chair on my porch this morning. Coffee in one hand, the nearly finished reviewer copy of Jokerman 8 in the other, loaned from a friend. I don't know how else to begin a review of a book that starts at such a basic level: humankind's connection to the world, to the universe, to childhood, and to the petty bourgeoisie melodious humdrum of daily life.
I hate that this book is compared to The Monkey Wrench Gang, not out of any particular loathing for Abbey (a damn fine Utahn and a personal hero) but more because the sway of Jokerman 8 follows its theme: gentle impulses. This is not a burn and slash, this is a flow, albeit a tragically funny one at times. Melo has indulged us with the subtle presence of youth; tree spiking and eco-salvation take a backseat to laughter and the revolving door quality of causes and friendships in our 20's.
More importantly, Melo is not starting a cult. Anger is not fuel for Jokerman, as it was for Hayduke and pals.
Why read this? Mainly, because Jokerman 8 will make you remember. Or at least recall THAT moment of sway and simple acceptance; the laughter of youth interfused with political infrastructure; a genuine love of Nature--not only as the outdoors, but as something constantly inherent to ourselves and our ultra-blind staggering through the concrete Wilderness.
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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Put aside your preconceptions and pick up Jokerman 8, May 1, 2006
Jokerman 8 is billed as "a rockin, rollin, wild-eyed journey through the American eco-saboteur movement, and a restless multistranded narrative about two pasts that can never be reconstituted: happy childhoods and forests." Reviewers have noted how it moves through the decades with some wild characters and a collective "we" used for the first person narrative. I'm not one for gimmicky books, so I freely admit to being apprehensive about reading and reviewing Jokerman 8. Also, I'm a liberal and a capitalist at heart, and I believe at working for change within the system, so how was I going to get along with a brand of renegade environmentalists?
Melo manages to pull it all off. Music ties the adventures of the edo-sabateurs together, from The Beatles and a daughter named Jude to U2's Joshua Tree, complete with a several-page analysis of "With or Without You." The lyrics and allusions in Melo's prose made me want to run out and listen to these albums. His characters are off-the-wall but always shine with their true colors in a way that endears them to the reader. I admired Willie Shoman's principled approach to his tree-spiking jail sentence, as he chose not to kowtow to the man to get a shortened sentence. I cracked up at the dedication of Eleanor Cookee, who wanted to set up a Wildlife Legal Cooperative, but couldn't find any lawyers in California to donate their time, since time is money. "She does find, however, lawyers who are willing to donate money, which is, in turn, used to hire lawyers. Frequently, she hires back the same lawyers who donated the money in the first place." One the machine is in place, Eleanor loses interest and looks for new challenges.
Melo's book is one that has a generation-spanning audience. The characters are children of the 1960's, but many of their ideals are still held by today's young activists. It's certainly not for everyone, but pick this up if you have an open mind or want to remember a time when you cared more about saving the world than your own personal gain.
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4 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
An Ode to Joy, March 11, 2005
Jokerman 8 follows a shifting group of eco-saboteurs in the eighties, from their loose beginnings at college to the end of their days as a group. Individual characters are memorably described, but most of the action happens smack in the middle of a collective consciousness. The author accomplishes this through the use of a rare device--first person plural narration, the collective "we." I can't think of it being used in any book besides The Virgin Suicides, which is another incredible portrait of time and place. The "we" places us in the middle of missions to protect old-growth timber stands, Canadian wolves, and more. The "we" invites the reader in and along. It's uncanny. You have to read the book to understand what a joyful stomping journey it is.
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