John Dies at the End by David Wong

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David Wong is the editor-in-chief of Cracked, and even though I don’t specifically remember reading his articles, the magazine’s style is quite unique and distinct. It’s very modern, deeply embedded in pop culture and American culture, intelligent, sarcastic, nerdy and it doesn’t shy away from cheap jokes, either – and somehow this combination appeals to me.

This novel feels very much like Cracked. It’s a horror (parody) with a lot of blood, with horrible monsters and with all the stock elements of the genre, plus it also features a million dick jokes, and besides all this, it’s nerdy to to core, so it’s entirely possible for the protagonists to argue whether it’s correct to use the apostrophe in the word „Morrison’s” when it’s displayed on the nameplate on someone’s front door.

And in a strange way, this is one of the most American novels I’ve recently (or perhaps ever) read. It’s American in the small details – for example, in that someone here once eats chicken fried steak. I’ve never encountered the concept of chicken fried steak in books before, I’ve only heard about it from an American acquaintance, and it was weird to see it in a novel.

It made me think how much is inevitably lost in translation – and I mean translation across cultures here – and my guess is that a lot. Because, for instance, chicken fried steak might have all kinds of cultural connotations, and if you’re American, you’ll probably immediately have some ideas or prejudices about the person who eats a chicken fried steak. Perhaps you’ll get an idea about his background, his home state, and so on. And here I come and read this as a European, and just maybe I understand the significance of this particular thing, but I’m sure I miss the significance of a whole array of other very-American details.

Anyway, the novel offers lots of American trivia and cultural and lifestyle details – which is something I like as I’m deeply interested in things American.

But on to the question of how this is as a novel – it’s pretty good. It works. It’s about two young slackers who somehow get involved in a very dramatic situation after taking a drug called soy sauce. The drug’s users gain special abilities and extremely sharply tuned senses, and in the case of the protagonists, this leads to some bizarre events where they have to face terribly horrifying unearthly creatures, and they also have to assume to role of superheroes.

But in the end this is too much for me – it’s too long, too dense, and after reading it I feel the same way I feel when, on certain nights when I’m only capable of passive consumption, I read Cracked way too long. I have a good time, and I even think through stuff while I’m reading, but after getting to the last of my 63 open browser tabs, my main thought is usually that: oh my god, I should have gone to bed hours ago, because this is smart, funny, and even thoughtful, but certainly not such a life-altering and fantastic experience that would justify staying awake until the wee hours.

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