Monster Children

B-B-B-BOOK CLUUUUUUUUB!
Posted By Jason – 30.06.2012

The Writing Class by Jincy Willet

Welcome to my Book Club. It’s a club where we (I) talk about books (whatever). Today’s book is The Writing Class by Jincy Willet. It’s the story of a fat, lonely, miserable, reclusive, fat and once-promising yet fat novelist named Amy Gallup, who happens to be fat. Amy teaches a writer’s workshop for University extension courses–which has to be, with the exception of wagging a sign outside a gas station, the least fun job in the world. When Amy’s students start getting bumped off by ‘The Sniper’, a deranged fellow student with a chip on his/her shoulder, everyone becomes a suspect…and it’s hilarious.

I’ve never attended a writer’s workshop. I know I’d sure-as-hell benefit from doing one, but I don’t like the idea of fifteen unqualified nitwits criticizing my work; that just sounds annoying. No doubt a few student would be able to share some constructive analysis with me, but, in my minds eye, all I see is a pack of baying idiots, desperate to voice their opinions because they don’t want to miss an opportunity to voice their opinions. Having read The Writing Class, I now know this to be fact. I definitely won’t be taking part in a writer’s workshop anytime soon...which I guess is my loss…and yours, dear reader.

Anyway, it’s a good book, so check it out.

In case you’re wondering, right now I’m in Seattle. My chick is here for meetings, so I thought I’d tag along and explore the cradle of Grunge for a few days. It’s been pretty awesome, actually. I really like it here. The people are great and so is the food. The weather sucks a bit, and there seems to be two homeless people for every home-having person, but other than that I dig it. I saw a Nirvana exhibition at the EMP Museum the other day, which was cool. They the t-shirt Kurt wore in the Teen Spirit video! Imagine that. They’re also showing an AC/DC exhibition that features a handful of different outfits Angus Young has worn on stage. I can now safely say that that dude is a rock n’ roll elf. The best thing to happen in Seattle, though, happened yesterday. I was in the hotel elevator with a mum, a dad, an aunty, a 5 year-old girl and a 7 year-old boy. They’d all been chatting before I stepped in, and, as the doors closed, they went quiet and made me feel uncomfortable, as is the custom. I stared up at the numbers ticking down, and everyone else looked at the floor or into space. Silence. Suddenly there was an almighty PAAAAAARP!  The little boy spun around and looked up at me with a gleeful ‘Santa just gave me a bicycle!’ expression. He had let rip a massive fart (almost supernaturally massive, given his size) and now he was beaming at me as if to say, ‘Dude! Can you fucking believe I just did that?!’ His mum slapped him upside the head. ‘Toby!’ She said. I cracked up, and then everyone started laughing. It was great. Then, thinking it could only add to the hilarity, I lifted a leg and let one go myself. It sounded like the cry of a dying elephant and smelt like garbage, sick, burnt hair and shit. The laughter ceased, the doors opened, and we hurried out of the lift. Toby looked over his shoulder as he was lead away, and he shook his head at me. ‘Too far. You went too far.’

The Writing Class by Jincy Willet. It’s a really good book.