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Read as an intentional breather after finishing the last of McElroy, Greene provides exactly what is advertised: entertainment. If something is clearly marked as what it properly is, then the only fools are those that don’t read the disclaimer. Myself? I don’t read expiration dates on food. Life, dangerously.
This is meant as a fun, breezy, romping booze-cruise through pre-Castro Cuba. All morality and jabs at national actors, though present, are intentionally parodic. This is Sonny’s punching of Carlo on the sidewalk; the hilarity of how choreographed it all is likely functions as the greatest reward.
If you want to plumb the Godhead, read any of the half dozen (at least) books by Greene that contend with anything in the modern era on that front. If you want to read James Bond as an alcoholic schlub/secret Hero making adventure time with his badass love interest and vine-pluckable daughter, Lolita of Lourdes…in the Temple of Doom? This is for you. You could do worse.
This is meant as a fun, breezy, romping booze-cruise through pre-Castro Cuba. All morality and jabs at national actors, though present, are intentionally parodic. This is Sonny’s punching of Carlo on the sidewalk; the hilarity of how choreographed it all is likely functions as the greatest reward.
If you want to plumb the Godhead, read any of the half dozen (at least) books by Greene that contend with anything in the modern era on that front. If you want to read James Bond as an alcoholic schlub/secret Hero making adventure time with his badass love interest and vine-pluckable daughter, Lolita of Lourdes…in the Temple of Doom? This is for you. You could do worse.