Chuck Klosterman.....not sure how to describe this. He's. He's a stream of consciousness writer which can be hit or miss with me. For example, I hate Charles Bukowski, but I tend to like Henry Miller. I think Chuck Klosterman is snarkier and much funnier than the former and as interesting as the latter. It's hard for me to credit stream of consciousness writers with much as they pride themselves on writing off the top of their heads. They're like buying a square mile of ocean from a chef and agreeing you'll eat whatever you find in there and attribute the tastiest mouthfuls to the previous owner. That said, I'm delighted by him. He's sort of a post-modern naturalist romantic. He's living in a world which isn't anything like the world of the 19th century poet -- it's hard to explain but he doesn't think that he will never see a poem as lovely as a tree. That said, he sees meaning -- almost desperately -- in everything around him. All of his relationships, rock music, drug addled exchanges, chance encounters with random people. And when I wasn't laughing at his writing, I was finding meaning in them too. Unless I thought they were just pointless. Which also happens. But for me, not much.

If my enjoyment of a book can be measured in reading speed, this is one of the most enjoyable books I've read in a long time. I simply couldn't put it down.

Now, I may be biased. I think Chuck Klosterman is totally likeable because I think, more than most people I read, he thinks like I think. And I think a lot of people have this private thought when they're reading him. Here is this nerdy guy who throws around pop culture references like sprinkles on the cupcake of his own self-deprecating over-analyzing sadness. And frankly, I think we all feel that way sometimes.

But I can also see how other people might not like Klosterman. And the book isn't perfect. It moves around a lot, inserts references that aren't always clear, but thats part of its charm. Its like Klosterman wrote a particularly funny diary for us about this road trip he went on and reading it made everyone feel a little better about the times they can be a little self-absorbed or monomaniacal or just plain bad at communication.

Klosterman is a reflection of all of us at our most earnest and sometimes most awkward.

Now, this book is ostensibly about rock star death but I really think its about the death of one's self throughout life. How certain chapters have to be closed in order for new one's to be started. On this theme, Klosterman is poignant and heartfelt, in his own way, and it really is what makes the book so worthwhile.

This book, as well as Klosterman in general, comes highly recommended. And when you read it, and fall in love with it, be sure to feel super envious of my autographed copy.

Entre el libro de viajes, el relato autobiográfico y la autoficción, Chuck Klosterman se embarca en Matarse para vivir en dos odiseas. Primero, una aventurilla de carretera por los lugares donde se estrellaron las avionetas en las que viajaban los Lynyrd Skynyrd, Buddy Holly o Ritchie Valens, el baño donde se paró el corazón de Elvis, el recodo del Mississippi donde se ahogó Jeff Buckley, el invernadero donde Kurt Cobain se reventó los sesos, la discoteca donde casi un centenar de personas murieron durante un concierto de Great White, el cruce en el cuál Robert Johnson hizo su pacto con el diablo... Cada uno de estos sitios-icono le permiten divagar sobre cómo muerte y música popular se han realimentado, desde la iconoclastia, su habitual perspicacia y una cierta ligereza.

Este recorrido, sin embargo, a ratos parece una excusa. Klosterman dedica amplios espacios a contar las melopeas junto a sus compañeros de redacción; los encuentros más extravagantes durante su paso por los bares, restaurantes y moteles del trayecto; su uso de las sustancias estupefacientes; y, sobremanera, sus miedos, dudas, confidencias surgidas en sus relaciones con tres mujeres que han marcado su vida sentimental. Como bromea su editora al final, entre las páginas de periodismo cultural Klosterman parece meter su propia Alta fidelidad, a machacamartillo.

Y aunque a veces le daría de collejas por lo que hace, dice o piensa (por ser fino, no vaya a ser que alguien me pille tirria porque piense que lo haría de verdad), creo que sale exitoso. Aparte de su manejo del lenguaje, es sumamente ingenioso al conectar cualquier suceso con su visión del mundo de la música popular anglosajona de los últimos 50 años, ya sea a través de los compositores e intérpretes, sus canciones, las letras, las anécdotas detrás... Y esa inteligencia sobrepasa con creces las gilipolleces que, sin duda, también se pueden encontrar. Total, la indulgencia con Klosterman es las que necesitamos nosotros mismos cuando volvemos la vista atrás (aunque no sepamos sacar a nuestras pequeñas epopeyas personales el lustre que hay detrás de este relato).

Honestly, more of a 2.5 star book, but Goodreads and their draconian rules don't allow for half star ratings. This is the tale of a journalist's journey around the US to visit the death sites of famous musicians. However, from the get go it becomes clear that this book is more about his life and musinfs on life, love, and music.

Klosterman has a lot of musings. And since he comes across as very self satisfied a decent amount of his musings are garbage. His takes on Radiohead and terrorism, and KISS and his personal love life read as self congratulatory for being the only mediocre white guy to have these thoughts.

However, when he truly opens up and addresses his flaws, then the writing is stellar. There's a passage in there where he examines his past behavior with unrequited loves (or more correctly, infatuations) and I felt the inward cringing alongside him as I recognized some of my own past thought processes with past crushes. On a lighter note, he perfectly nails the appeal of the band Led Zeppelin, it felt like he was looking into my HS years.

The book and author think they're a lot deeper than they truly are. If he had dialed back on his smugness, it would have been a bit better. Also while I hate memoirs, this was thankfully short and breezy! So...its got that going for it

Cool book. Fun non-fiction to breeze through, especially for a music lover. Don't read if you hate that pre/early millennial pretension.

I wanted this book to be a Sarah Vowell's "Assassination Vacation"-style account of the US history of rock n roll deaths as narrated by the typically witty Chuck Klosterman. That seemed like that's what this book was going to be. BUT IT WAS NOT.

RNR history occupies maybe 2% of this book. 3% = talking about how great he thinks Radiohead is, 3% = talking about how great he thinks KISS is, 10% = talking about writing about music for a living and how much he hates the idea of this roadtrip, 30% = boring stories about Chuck's ex-girlfriends (seriously "we talked about horses" is a line that is included in this book TWICE), 5% quotable funniness, 47% Chuck gets stoned, alone, and denies he is an addict.

I kind of can't see how anybody can complain about two weeks of road tripping. But whatever, Chuck's world is not my world.

Additionally, I find it totally disgusting and reprehensible that Klosterman says retarded people are unlikeable.

p.120, Chuck's having an imaginary conversation with his ex-girlfriends: " 'What would happen if I stopped being funny? What if I became retarded? What if I stopped listening to you whenever you talk about why you like shopping for boots? How long would it be before you stopped talking to me?'
'That, in a nutshell is why you don't understand what 'Layla' is about,' Quincy would interject. 'Diane brought up qualities that make someone physically unattractive. You are bringing up qualities that make someone unlikable.'... Quincy is making a valid point, if I do say so myself."

Where were his editors? Where's the content of this book? I prefer when Chuck sticks to writing about pop culture and NOT his female troubles since he clearly has serious, serious issues with women. (See my review of "Fargo Rock City" for more on that point: http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/... )

Ultimately, the author should have listened to his friend Lucy Chance.

This being my first Chuck Klosterman read, I didn't know what to expect. I'd heard that Drugs, Sex, and Cocoa Puffs was good, but this was cheaper at the bookstore I went to.

I really like his writing style. He's such a pop culture nerd and he's oh so human. He's a borderline neurotic, based on his writings, and so easy to relate to in many ways. It's enjoyable even if you have no idea who 90% of the rock stars are that he references. I'd imagine getting the references would make it all the more enjoyable, but it's definitely not necessary. It doesn't really have a large overarching point, but the observations he makes and the thought processes he goes through a delicious food for thought.

Recommended as a nice, leisurely read on the bus.

So many thoughts about this very, very Gen-X document of travel and longing. At times I smiled at Klosterman's evocations of the simple beauty of the most mundane things. At times I wanted to snap his glasses in half and shove him in the nearest locker (which I probably couldn't do, because while his external persona is nerdier than mine, he actually is a former jock). To be honest, it was so many thoughts I wrote a whole thing about it.

If you care: click dat shit.

https://subjectslashobject.blogspot.c...

This doesn’t hold up the way it did when reading it in 2005, or 2007, or 2011. But four stars for the college nostalgia of being 20 and endlessly talking about this over cheap beers and VH1 classic marathons and pretending like we knew anything at all. Jazz wolf.

Got halfway through. Couldn't handle groaning any more. This book has not aged well.

...and Mr. Klosterman and I officially fall in love. If you're going to date me, you should read this book. If you want to learn how to smoke marijuana resin using parts of your car, you should read this. Don't read this book if you have epilepsy.

Chuck certainly rants and does a great job of talking himself in circles. More irrelevant content than what the description of the book promised, but it was interesting to hear about rock culture in the late 90s/early 2000s. Also his love live is sad. Hope the past two decades were better for you, Chuck!