Don Bronco’s (Working Title) Shell
reviewed by Adam Van Winkle
Available from Malarkey Books
It’s hard to say where to begin with this gem of a novel (?).
It is hard to say where to begin with this gem of a novel (?).
Where to begin with this gem of a novel (?) is hard to say.
Let’s get this out of the way: you’ll enjoy piecing Don Bronco’s (Working Title) Shell together. Donald Ryan has taken the novel and dropped it and left it in pieces. Much like the pieces of eggshells Zeek finds everywhere he looks in this novel, starting with his omelet, this book is begging to be examined in pieces, and put together as a whole. You approach it in context (of course you might find a bit of eggshell in an omelet), as a whole, but then as it spreads in delivery you will start to engage the pieces individually. The question of how each fits hooks you and keeps you going. It’s very, very clever.
Given the shifting perspectives and style (and even font color) in this unique tale, comparisons to House of Leaves or Infinite Jest are bound to crop up. Because I don’t like those books as much, I kept recalling my first reading of Joyce’s Ulysses as I went through Ryan’s work.
Admitting I might be a weirdo here: that first reading of Joyce was for me pure bliss, literary hedonism. It blew open the world of language and storytelling for me. How utterly pleased I was then to feel the same way nearly two decades later in reading Don Bronco’s (Working Title) Shell—I felt like a pig in literary slop. As a reader and writer I’m once again inspired by the possibilities of everything.
By the end of the novel I’d been taken on a ride through lyrics, parables and proverbs, repetitions, and even recipes. And somehow felt completely satisfied that all of it should live under this novel’s roof. That’s not an easy feat for any writer to pull off and Ryan does it with aplomb.
Oh and hey—it’s genuinely funny and slick and pleasurable.
Malarkey has quickly becoming my favorite not Cowboy Jamboree publisher with authors like Leigh Chadwick and Joey Hedger and Susan Triemert and the like. Donald Ryan is certainly one more on the list.
I have this habit of rereading. As I get older I probably reread my favorites (Sam Shepard, Larry McMurtry, Annie Baker, Harry Crews, Larry Brown) as much as I read new finds. I have a feeling I’m going to be rereading Donald Ryan’s book a few times. And I know I’ll find new things every time.
I dig that, and you’ll dig this book.
reviewed by Adam Van Winkle
Available from Malarkey Books
It’s hard to say where to begin with this gem of a novel (?).
It is hard to say where to begin with this gem of a novel (?).
Where to begin with this gem of a novel (?) is hard to say.
Let’s get this out of the way: you’ll enjoy piecing Don Bronco’s (Working Title) Shell together. Donald Ryan has taken the novel and dropped it and left it in pieces. Much like the pieces of eggshells Zeek finds everywhere he looks in this novel, starting with his omelet, this book is begging to be examined in pieces, and put together as a whole. You approach it in context (of course you might find a bit of eggshell in an omelet), as a whole, but then as it spreads in delivery you will start to engage the pieces individually. The question of how each fits hooks you and keeps you going. It’s very, very clever.
Given the shifting perspectives and style (and even font color) in this unique tale, comparisons to House of Leaves or Infinite Jest are bound to crop up. Because I don’t like those books as much, I kept recalling my first reading of Joyce’s Ulysses as I went through Ryan’s work.
Admitting I might be a weirdo here: that first reading of Joyce was for me pure bliss, literary hedonism. It blew open the world of language and storytelling for me. How utterly pleased I was then to feel the same way nearly two decades later in reading Don Bronco’s (Working Title) Shell—I felt like a pig in literary slop. As a reader and writer I’m once again inspired by the possibilities of everything.
By the end of the novel I’d been taken on a ride through lyrics, parables and proverbs, repetitions, and even recipes. And somehow felt completely satisfied that all of it should live under this novel’s roof. That’s not an easy feat for any writer to pull off and Ryan does it with aplomb.
Oh and hey—it’s genuinely funny and slick and pleasurable.
Malarkey has quickly becoming my favorite not Cowboy Jamboree publisher with authors like Leigh Chadwick and Joey Hedger and Susan Triemert and the like. Donald Ryan is certainly one more on the list.
I have this habit of rereading. As I get older I probably reread my favorites (Sam Shepard, Larry McMurtry, Annie Baker, Harry Crews, Larry Brown) as much as I read new finds. I have a feeling I’m going to be rereading Donald Ryan’s book a few times. And I know I’ll find new things every time.
I dig that, and you’ll dig this book.