Brautigan only had a few years left in the tank, and his exhaustion with the sauce is clearly showing through.

As was his habit at this point, there is an overwhelming sense of sadness that pervades the whole affair. The attempts at levity largely seem more like a formality rather than being equal to the episodes that forego levity for its own sake.

That being said, there is still much joy to be found in a man acknowledging his failures and, in doing so, helping to expiate our own. Richard was like a fisherman who still had his line in the water here - it's not about the catch.

(As the great Brautigan reread is drawing closer to completion, I realize I should get Revenge out of the way before the incredible combination of The Abortion and Hawkline. I wonder if it will have changed for me in the last 1_- years since I last read it. My memory is of being underwhelmed in my early 30s or thereabouts, but we all know that books can metamorphize within their bindings.)

This is one of my all-time favorite books!

To truly understand this remarkable book, picture yourself aboard a train, with each piece of writing serving as a station stop along the route. What I adore about it is that it lacks a traditional narrative, yet there is a profound theme that emerges by the end. Perhaps this theme is simply Brautigan's idiosyncratic perspective on life, or maybe it offers a broader commentary on the 1960s and 1970s. He has an extraordinary way of reflecting on the minutiae of life, transforming a small gesture into a moment of great significance. "Cat Cantaloupe" is a story that never fails to bring a smile to my face.

The copy of the book that I possess is an old library edition. I believe it hails from Richmond, California. It still retains the card catalog card in the envelope, with the last check-out date clearly stamped on it. And, of course, there is that wonderful old book smell that adds to its charm. It's a treasure that I cherish and will continue to revisit time and time again.

I procrastinated reading this book for numerous months. However, now that I have finished reading and closed the cover of this book, a profound sense of sadness washes over me.

This marks my final encounter with Richard Brautigan's works, as I have already devoured all of his other published fiction.

As I reflect on this reading journey, I can't help but feel a tinge of melancholy.

Richard Brautigan's writing has always had a unique charm, transporting me to different worlds and making me feel a gamut of emotions.

With this last book, it's as if a chapter in my literary life has come to an end.

~sigh~ I will surely miss the magic that his words brought to my reading experiences.

But perhaps this is also an opportunity to explore new authors and discover new literary gems.

Nonetheless, Richard Brautigan will always hold a special place in my heart.

I'm starting to feel a bit depressed by late-period Brautigan now.

I had remembered this as one of his better works. However, it's kind of like a pale imitation or a retread of "Trout Fishing in America" by Richard Brautigan.

The magic and charm that was present in his earlier works seem to be lacking in this one.

Maybe my expectations were too high, but it just doesn't have the same impact.

The storylines and characters don't seem as developed or engaging.

It's a shame really, as I was a big fan of his earlier work.

But perhaps this is just a sign that his writing style has changed over time, and I need to adjust my expectations accordingly.

Still, it's hard not to be a little disappointed when a favorite author doesn't live up to your memories.

As fleeting as an oddity outside the window of a speeding train.

It passes by in the blink of an eye, almost too fast to fully register. Just like that strange sight outside the train window, it vanishes before you can truly take it in.

We often encounter such moments in life, those brief instants that seem to hold a hint of mystery or wonder. They are like flashes of light in the darkness, gone before we can fully understand their significance.

Perhaps it's a face in a crowd, a beautiful sunset, or a unique object that catches our eye. These fleeting oddities have a way of making us stop and think, if only for a moment.

They remind us that life is full of surprises and that there is always something new and unexpected waiting just around the corner.

Even though they are gone in an instant, they leave a lasting impression on our minds and hearts.

We may not be able to hold onto them, but we can cherish the memories they create and use them to add a touch of magic to our otherwise ordinary lives.

My expectations were sky-high when I embarked on reading this book. It is a compilation of short pieces, much like his earlier work, Revenge of the Lawn. That particular book is an absolute favorite of mine - a collection of small treasures that read like prose poetry with a distinctively Baudelairian essence. That's precisely what I was seeking, yet unfortunately, it was not to be found in The Tokyo-Montana Express.

The issue isn't that there is no Brautigan gold within these pages. There are indeed flashes of his humor, an actual abundance of his pathos (overall, this is a far darker work than Revenge of the Lawn), and an occasional perfect Brautigan sentence or phrase, such as: "Howl like a toothless vampire in the endless garlic mirrors of eternity" or "She can feel the power of her body’s religion by watching prayers in the eyes of men."

The problem lies not in the absence of gold but rather in the overwhelming amount of dross. Many of these pieces seem平淡无奇 and pointless, completely devoid of the familiar Brautigan magic. For the very first time while reading a Brautigan book, I found myself simply wanting to get it over with and was even tempted to skim. Then, I would come across a piece that reminded me of why I love his writing, which would keep me reading through the next three to five mediocre pieces before stumbling upon another one that was worthy.

If you are not acquainted with Brautigan, do not read this book. Instead, read Revenge of the Lawn, or Trout Fishing In America, or literally almost any other of his books first. If you already have a penchant for Brautigan, you will definitely want to read it to unearth the limited magic that exists here. Just be aware to approach it with your expectations scaled back.

For the most part, it consists of the inert ramblings of a has-been who is well on the road to disintegration into the loneliness and incoherence of old age. At times, it is excessively so, with extended diatribes on replacing light-bulbs, watching the temperature change on a thermometer, and umbrellas.

However, it is interspersed with occasional instances of his rare genius. For example, there are the strange adventures of a death row dinner menu and a certain Swedish migrant in the Californian Gold Rush. The things his attention latches onto, such as vanishing schools, misleading automobile advertisements, and popcorn, range from the mundane to the peculiar, but always in Brautigan’s domestic sense of the term.

Despite the low rating, I did quite enjoy the book. I picked at it slowly over my morning coffee, as I believe it ought to be read. But this is C-grade Brautigan, and mere table-scraps compared to his earlier innovative works like Trout Fishing. It is only for fans and the curious.

4.5/5 stars.

Richard Brautigan passed away by suicide a few years subsequent to the publication of this book. Here, one can commence reading and, within the lines of Brautigan's characteristic humor and extensive similes that both baffle and amuse, discern where he commences to muse upon life. He makes reference to his own advancing age, isolation, and an even greater detachment from people.

Notwithstanding that, this stands as one of his superior works. It is replete with humorous anecdotes, everyday observations of even the wind's blowing, and unashamedly dark, dry humor. If he were to convey it to your face, you would laugh, yet he would not. Perhaps he might crack a smile, though.

Moreover, if you have ever been curious about the origin of his renowned "everyone has their place in history. Mine is in clouds." line, it is precisely from this book.

This book offers a unique glimpse into Brautigan's mind, with its blend of humor and introspection, making it a captivating read for those interested in his works.

Last Sunday, I attended the Methodist Church annual October auction in Pine Creek. There, I bought a delicious German chocolate cake. The auction was held to raise money, which would be used to keep the church going for the next year. It's quite interesting that although I am not a Christian, I was still drawn to the wonderful items at the auction, especially that scrumptious chocolate cake.

After that, I found a quiet corner and read this brilliant book in the rain. The raindrops were gently tapping on the window, creating a peaceful and cozy atmosphere. I was completely immersed in the story, forgetting everything else around me. It was truly a memorable and enjoyable experience.

I look forward to more such moments in the future, whether it's attending auctions or simply reading a good book in the rain.

The reason it took me an incredibly long time to read this book is that I simply had to halt every few pages and deeply ponder about what the author was trying to convey.

He is vividly writing about his remarkable adventures in both the bustling metropolis of Tokyo and the serene landscapes of Montana.

Some of his observations are truly profound, making me reflect on life and the world in a whole new light. They offer unique insights that I had never considered before.

On the other hand, there are also some of his remarks that are completely absurd, leaving me with a sense of amusement and disbelief.

Despite the mix of the profound and the absurd, the author's writing style keeps me engaged throughout the book, eager to discover what he will say next.

It's this combination of thought-provoking content and an engaging narrative that makes this book a truly interesting read.

I'm glad I took the time to read it, even though it took me a while to get through.

It has definitely given me a lot to think about and has broadened my perspective.

Reading short stories has never been at the top of my priority list. However, given my aspiration to read all of Brautigan's works before my demise, I delved into this one, and I have no regrets whatsoever.

This piece is宛如 a memoir. Its tone is极其 dark and desperate, yet interspersed with Brautigan's characteristic humor. A significant number of the stories are intertwined with the theme of death. It's no wonder that this remarkable writer ultimately chose to end his own life. The following excerpts give you a sense of it:

“Sometimes when I finish writing something, perhaps even this, I feel as if I am distributing useless handbills or I am an old man standing in the rain, clad in shabby clothes and holding a sign for a cabaret that is filled with the beautiful and alluring skeletons of young women that make a sound like dominoes when they approach you upon entering the door.”

“I spend a considerable portion of my life being intrigued by little things, minuscule fragments of reality, similar to a pinch of spice in an extremely intricate recipe that takes days to prepare, sometimes even longer. Any more than that single pinch of spice and you're treading on perilous ground. Two pinches are completely out of the question, and the meal is spoiled. Time to order out for hot dogs.”

Some of his best works are truly remarkable. They possess a certain charm and depth that draw the reader in.

However, there is also a hint of sadness in them, as if a shadow is darkening the otherwise bright canvas.

This sadness is not overwhelming but rather subtly present, making it all the more visible and poignant.

It gives the works an added layer of complexity and authenticity, as if they are reflecting the true nature of life with all its joys and sorrows.

Perhaps this is what makes his works so memorable and beloved, for they touch on the universal human experience of both happiness and sadness.

Despite the presence of this sadness, there is still a glimmer of hope and beauty within his works, shining through the darkness like a ray of light.

It is this combination of light and dark, joy and sorrow, that makes his works some of the best in the literary world.