“John D’Agata is an alchemist who changes trash into purest gold.” —Guy Davenport, Harper’s
John D’Agata journeys the endless corridors of America’s myriad halls of fame and faithfully reports on what he finds there. In a voice all his own, he brilliantly maps his terrain in lists, collage, and ludic narratives. With topics ranging from Martha Graham to the Flat Earth Society, from the brightest light in Vegas to the artist Henry Darger, … More >>
Let me give you the scoop on John D’Agata. I am a student of the Writer’s Workshop at the University of Iowa. Before I came I made a point to read everyone’s books. I haven’t had John D’Agata as a teacher and haven’t even seen him yet because he’s a freak and a hermit. But this is what I think about his “brilliant” book. Halls of Fame is D’Agata’s first book, and you can tell it is. Now that the love fest with him seems to be over, I hope people will be willing to think about this book intelligently. It is a waste of paper. And definitely a waste of money. His “essays” ,if that’s what you want to call them, are just hodge podges of bits of information and “observations” that are about as profound as a bowell movement. Just because a guy uses some “experimental” styles while writing in a conventinoal form doesn’t make him a “breakthrough!” Get with it people. This is not a good book.
Rating: 2 / 5
Now that the hype is over, please can we finally agree that John D’Agata is 100% the worst writer this country has ever produced!
Rating: 1 / 5
It seems pretty clear that the world has gone insane, since this is in fact the WORST book ever written in nonfiction, instead of what the insane reviews on here are calling the best. So from now on, every good review that this book gets I am going to counter with a negative one. It seems only fair for a book that is not only unreadable but that has copied better efforts by better writers, which has been camoflaged with lots of “experimental” techniques that are neither experimental nor very technically able. John D’Agata is overrated, untalented, and the least informed writer of his generation. These aren’t essays, but just masterbatory effects.
Rating: 1 / 5
There are two duds in this book, the one about a college in the dessert, that I’m not sure even exists, but whatever, and the one about museums. But after that I think it’s an intersting twist on what ‘essays’ mean. okay
Rating: 4 / 5
Hey, World.
I worked up a whole slew of things to say here, but looks like there are enough now, so let me just say that the book rocks.
I could be more sophisticated, but really: Who’s going to read this?
G
Rating: 5 / 5