Already Dead is, to someone unfamiliar with Denis Johnson’s work, a dizzying and intoxicating world into which one cannot help but to fall.

Alright. Let's see if I can get myself back into the headspace that befell me as I read the final 30 or so pages of this last night. [Spoilers ahead]

Of course these last pages included a quote from Hesse's "Demian" [one of my favorite books]. It tied the whole thing together, and also solidified that, yes, I really really really do like this novel, in spite of my annoyance with Johnson's chronic tendency to describe female characters in that typical white-male gaze manner. Then again, I can *almost* excuse it because those descriptions were from the gaze of his white-male characters. Nonetheless. I do really really really like this book. And there were too many compelling factors to sell it short at four stars.

So, those factors. Number one, the prose. He managed to write a novel that involved both post modernism in addition to super stream-of-conscious-y poetic, gorgeously detailed, gothic prose. This was possible, I think, because of the book containing multiple perspectives - even though the perspectives were often written in third person (as in, sections of the book focused on one character and then another), the style of prose changed subtly among these characters. Basically, number two, Johnson breaks rules in this book, but makes it work. He did things that don't make a ton of sense structurally - jumping in time to the future sporadically, beginning the book with an emphasis on a character whose focus/perspective is forsaken early on (you start the book thinking he is the protagonist. You end the book realizing he just drove the plot, puppeteering much of what happens behind the scenes). And ends the book on none of the characters of focus.

Number three, it utterly keeps its promise as a "California Gothic." Re: the California part - I've been living in San Francisco for over 7 years now. I am not sure how I ended up here, and I am *still* not sure how to make sense of this place. I am not totally grounded, I have yet to completely land. The novel's setting is in Central-Northern California, places like Point Arena and Gualala and Jenner, north of San Francisco, an area I've taken a couple road-trips to, and have both fond and complicated memories of. Anyway, characters like Navarro and Van Ness seem to have landed in a similar position to this land. Somehow here, destined without fully knowing why or how, and using whatever brain-power they have to make sense of a place so absurd (Van Ness: nihilistic philosophy. a place to end and die./Navarro -cynical comparisons to his former life, his former land. trying to use his work and falling in love to make it all bearable - both of which ultimately fail.) The confusion, the dreamy absurdity of the place is represented through recurring themes of winding roads, the out-of-place huge Buddhist temple (this part is important - will discuss soon!), the backdrop of drugs and marijuana in people's bodies and stories and the wind, the fog shielding reality and sporadic thunderstorms rebirthing characters and driving narratives to a new place, a surfer's impulsive, ~far-out~ decision-making, a guru that concretizes the piece as one both gothic and magical-realist.

The next factor: Synchronicity or something like it. My undergraduate creative writing professor, Warren Hecht, introduced me to Denis Johnson when he assigned Jesus's Son in my first year creative writing class, at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. Another strange place I somehow ended up in, but as opposed to California, mostly felt at home in. Anywho. Something about that struck me, that I picked this book out at a bookstore in Berkeley, having known the author from another strange place, and that now I'm somehow here.

But to be honest, I'm not fully just *somehow* here. I moved to Berkeley from Michigan to partake in a full-time work-study program at a Tibetan Buddhist meditation center. Now. This is the wild thing. That ginormous strange Buddhist temple that runs as a theme throughout the book? I am 99% sure he is referencing a place called Odiyan, built right around the setting of the novel, by the volunteers of the organization that brought me out here in the first place. Now. Just. What in the heck. This isn't a landmark. This isn't an organization or a place many people, aside from some locals near Odiyan, know about. It really is an enigma. And it feels even more enigmatic and synchronous given what led me to pick out this book in the first place. I can't totally wrap my head around it, still.

Lastly. It becomes apparent, to me at least, that this whole book is rather rooted in not just nihilism, but, by the end, Jungian and Buddhist thought (speaking of synchronicity and Buddhism). This becomes particularly apparent when Hesse (whose works were directly influenced by Jung and Buddhism) is referenced at the end of our protagonist Nelson Fairchild's journey - an awakening - an understanding of the secret plot working against him throughout the book, and also a deeper confrontation with life, death, Truth itself, as he struggles to write his final philosophical words with his own blood as ink. Like Hesse's stories, the novel capitulates in the hero's coinciding awakening and death.

This isn't just some noir with kooky characters and a lot of action. I imagine a lot of people could read this at such a surface-level and perhaps appreciate Johnson's prose but not his story. I also imagine that familiarity with the setting makes for a deeper understanding. Then again, people should know better! The book's powers and depth materialize more and more as the story goes on, and there's a lot to still analyze and appreciate even now. I recommend the book to fans of existentialism, fans of Hermann Hesse, fans of gothic literature, fans of poetic prose, fans of or those curious about Central-Northern California, fans of 1990's hippiedom...

I also deeply recommend that the Coen Bros. adapt this into a film. How do I get in touch with them?

Raw, indulgent, and profound. A necessary one for readers of Denis Johnson.

Started this, but have set it aside for the moment. Just not feeling it right now. Very flowery, but in a weird masculine way, thick with metaphors on comic books and drinking. The word "dangerous" is beginning to lose all meaning.

Pynchon's "Vineland," Anderson's "Boonville," Christopher Moore's black farces -- many good novels have been set on the Mendocino coast, but this may be the best of the bunch. Johnson completely nails the place, the people, and the vibe; and as usual delivers a satisfyingly complex tale peopled by unforgettable characters. This guy is turning into one of my favorite writers.

Will start tonight... maybe... I feel like a Denis Johnson spree!

Typical DJ... fun to read(great dialogue!) but a bit murky(and pretentious) on the psychic side. This California tale reminds me a bit of T.C. Boyle so far.

I'm getting further on into this sort of "silly epic". It's reminding me of "Straight Man" with it's bolluxed-up narrator. DJ seems to think that centering a book around a bunch of drug abusers, alcoholics, deluded psychos and shallow new-agers is a good idea but I'm not so sure. Still... he's a gifted writer. Sort of reminding me now of Jim Harrison too. I'm not a BIG fan of prose-poetry. I like to have a firmish boundary between the two but he does it as well as anyone can I suppose. Just goes too far into the ether at times(for me anyway). Notes:

- Melissa... an obviously unworthy object of desire. Not that funny either.

- Nelson wants to murder his wife... Why'd he marry her???? It's not like they've been together very long.

- Was the big bombing in Lebanon a car bomb(as he states) or a truck bomb?

- What the bleep are zoris?

- The first conversation between Nelson and Van - is pretentious and ridiculous. Michael Chabon territory!

- Another monkey scene for DJ... the next one's in Tree of Smoke.

- The "set-up" reminds me of a for-real killing in Colorado 30+ years ago when an a-hole from Florida hired a convict-drifter to kill his estranged wife - horrible!

- Now a suggestion of "The Orchard Keeper" with the sinister radar domes.

- This seems a lot like "Nobody Move"(not written yet) but sillier.

- The old man's pretty funny!

I finished last night after I decided to hit the skip-skim button and get it over with. That means the lowering of my rating from 3 to 2*. Whatever... I guess I'm coming down on the side of the G'reads reviewers who were put off by the endless philosophical-poetical sidetracks, fractured narrative, hoo-doo new-agey shit and mostly unreal and unappealing characters. GHOSTS! DEMONS! WITCHES! OLD HIPPIES! MUCHO PSYCHIC DYSFUNCION! Anybody even vaguely normal in this Universe of Johnson? How about some nasty animal abuse(reminiscent of "Underworld")? Endless boozing and drugging? Various murdering here and there? I'm not giving up on the author. I loved "Jesus' Son". I liked "Nobody Move" and had mixed feelings about "Tree of Smoke"... liking it in SOME ways. This book resembles TOS in that it dearly needed some serious editing, such as Raymond Carver received. The author has a gift but this book is borderline awful. Notes:

- You can't tell a story and indulge your inner poet endlessly. SOME readers will get tired of it.

- The descriptions of the I-5 corridor and other geography are well done.

- "Nobody Move" was equally violent and pointless but much leaner.

- Poetry and prose are NOT equivalent!

- I'm reminded of both Chandler and Hammett. They both would have thrown up upon reading this. If they'd have bothered that is.

- Carrie = Geena Davis?

- Dog Killing, Frog Torturing - Tarentino stuff!

- Just thought of another book "link" to this one: "Tom O'Bedlam" by T. Sturgeon.

- I keep remembering things... like the tendency of this author and other young pretentious young folk to use fancy words like "diluvial". What's the point? Very little of that except for archaic stuff in "David Copperfeld"!

2.25 stars rounds down to 2*

I'd strongly recommend all of DJ's shorter works, with the exception of Nobody Move, over this.

A late review, but this book stays fresh in my mind. Much like Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men (but with quotation marks), Denis Johnson constructs a greatly diversified narrative in Already Dead. Featuring an oddball, drug-lagged cast of characters living among the California redwoods, this novel pulls you in nearly as many directions as there are characters, from the supernatural seances of Yvonne to the hapless bounty hunters to the self-involved, paranoid protagonist Nelson Fairchild to the often career-questioning, murder-investigating police officer, Navarro, and the eight-or-so other personalities.

Without giving too much away (I knew very little going in and was so pleasantly surprised), if you're able to keep track of the characters and their mostly off-putting relationships, Already Dead is an extremely rewarding text. Recommended for anyone who loves good dialogue or is looking for something a bit more complex than a crime/mystery.

Too goddam much writing, too many points of view; a lot of nice elements lost in a jumbled unsatisfying mess. Promising neo-noir plot riddled with spiritual hoohah and half-baked poetry.

I kept just hoping that it would end. In fairness, there were some very bright spots where Denis' writing was exquisite, especially his extensive use of imagery, but I gave it a 2 (while it may have been a 3) so that the Goodreads algorithm never recommends a "contemporary noir" book for me again. I think this genre sucks. It's like a restaurant where the chef does stuff to the food just to be weird (think dry ice, or emulsions encapsulated in little gelatin balls). It doesn't add anything to the flavor or texture of the food, but is simply the chef screaming "look at me, look at me!", rather than adding value to the diner's experience. Great Denis, you can be weird, so what. It takes away from your writing talent. At times, many times, this book degrades into page upon page of hippie, heroin addict jibber jabber garbage. And it's just that: garbage. Not art.

Unfortunately, the author embraces this style, as I am also trying (with great effort) to read his book of short stories "Jesus' Son", which is chalk full of senseless stories about, you guessed it, more heroin addicts. It would be wonderful if he used his literary talents to write an imaginative, straight forward novel, but it seems I'll have to look elsewhere for this. Just like the rave reviews for David Foster Wallace, I don't see what readers enjoy about this stuff. I guess it's the same people that think a solid gold toilet is worth going to see at the Museum of Modern "Art". It's their prerogative, but I couldn't give a shit.

It seems like everyone's always hating on this Johnson novel because it doesn't tie up nicely, or pyrotechnically, at the end. I think that's one of its strengths. I think the characters are beautifully developed.

Bit conflicted on this one. A lot to like: the beautiful, descriptive writing, the cast of assorted weirdos, the way the characters cross paths, the storylines established at the beginning. But Johnson's tendency to veer off into tangents and abstractions grows tiresome; at times I struggled to understand what was happening. He paints these interesting characters (especially Nelson and Billy) but then doesn't really do anything with them. There's a new age element that is kind of intriguing at first, but becomes boring and ridiculous. The whole thing just fizzles out. I pretty much lost interest towards the end, which is a shame because I think there was a lot of potential.