
JR
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Narrated by:
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Nick Sullivan
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By:
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William Gaddis
Absurdly logical, mercilessly real, gathering its own tumultuous momentum for the ultimate brush with commodity training, JR captures the listener in the cacophony of voices that revolves around this young captive of his own myths. The disturbing clarity with which this finished writer captures the ways in which we deal, dissemble, and stumble through our words - through our lives - while the real plans are being made elsewhere makes JR the extraordinary novel that it is.
©1975 William Gaddis (P)2010 Audible, Inc.Listeners also enjoyed...




















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Amazing performance
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I'm not sure my wife loved it, since it proved once and fore..., well unequivocally, that I'm a bad father yes, inadequate husband yes, don't sleep much hey and this may be (let all the F+ing challengers just try and knock it down) my GD favorite GD books in the whole GD world. This morning, with 100 pages left, part of me just wanted to loop the SOB and start reading it again once I finished. That 3am euphoria has since passed, luckily.
Recommendation to friends who read this after me ... try to read about 200 pgs/day, because GDs this book almost requires you read it GD fast. I read somewhere online (yes there it is GD Paris Review**) that Gaddis said the secret to reading J R was "it was my hope -- for many readers it worked, for others it did not -- that having made some effort they would not read too agonizedly slowly and carefully, trying to figure out who is talking and so forth. It was the flow that I wanted, for the readers to read and be swept along -- to participate. And enjoy it. And occasionally chuckle, laugh along the way." Well, GD, the flow thing kinda works. It also helps that I have a GD series 7 and the financial stuff all made perfect f+ing sense.
How do you rate this adequately HEH?
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Compelling through the first half, this tome of the corporatized pandemonium really sags from the 50% to 80% point, mitigated only by the incredible hippie, Rhoda in Schraff's apartment, as she observes and interacts with the increasing entropy of the series of commercially embroiled artists that tenant the cesspool. Picks up in the last 4 chapters. A worthwhile book, for sure, but characters are complex stock types with almost no range of motion, save that of general enervation and decay, past the static role in which they are placed. That, and the general cultural decay of art and passion subordinated to a system of hegemonic commerce and the money powered media within which we are commercialized is Gaddis' point: but one that is overemphasized for at least 250 pages too long. I would have preferred a 500 pager without the sagging stasis of the aforementioned.
Though, perhaps upon reflection, I'll savor those wry string of vomituous quips and foregrounded mistakes flying through 750 pages--literally, without exaggeration, seriously--of constant, "goddamn," as Jack would have it, interruptions (all of whose perpetrators protest, at some point, of the universal crime...and if a single symbolic leitmotif could ever be emphasized so religiously as to undergo a conversion into the concrete, this was the proof of concept: we are comprised at the ultimate core, of a squalid messball of interruptions... the kind that life becomes when you're busy making other plans). Perhaps I'll savor the boring, inundation section as that's where the sweet reprieve of jokes coming into focus from wry repetitions of strings in former sections are passed around like consolation cigarettes on the 15 min break of a thankless job. Gaddis had to grind through it in real life, and God dammit, so damn well will his readership.
Kali Yuga, age of distraction---the Hindus pinned the tail on the donkey, just as the European Renaissance was rolling into the station.
One realizes that Gaddis's aims are beyond those of traditional satire... they are the aims of cultural revenge...a revenge of mockery upon the reader...and more than that: a punishment Punishment of noise and we it's myriad subjects which, as far as misanthropy is concerned, is quite a feat, and laudable, as-- to quote JR--someone had to do it, so why "get mad" at Gaddis for being the first, after Quixote (which, doesn't dig in with the backmark fingernails of Gaddis).
He is to be applauded for his innovations in dialogic texture--it turns out everyone, bulldog to mouse, has a verbal crutch (yaaas, erm, well, you see, top flight talent, just this, goddamn, maaan?, yes sir, stop that, hey?)--and to be credited for his keen and comic demonstration of signal decay and accident accumulation in the noise-money order (imagine the game of telephone multiplied by 1,000 and crisscrossed, each game over the other in a clusterf@#$ of pixie sticks, and sprinkled with salt n' peppah, greed and litigiousness, and you have the novel), but, for all that virtue: there is too much of a good thing.
The Detritus Masterpiece is ultimately a kind of well-dramatized essay...since it offers no transcendence and cannot be relegated to jeremiad or cautionary tale. It is an over-exposed and unrelenting, wide-format photo panorama of what is, high school principal to company principal, to textbook principle to mortgage principlea, as wearily relevant and apt today, where several of its dark hyperboles are now realities, as it ever was in 1975...but we are ultimately in the same episteme of decay (sans the angry unions of stagflation, who are clearly not Gaddis' animus) and resignation as a society as we were then. McTrump USA is very G. Ford USA: a stupid, moneyed hack in charge with a class act sociopath cabinet and corporate-elect congress to steel the helm of this pathetic, sinking ship of noise through the giant ocean gyres of trash in which we float and drag the world into, kicking or laughing as its various portions may fall.
JR, like father like son: we the people are the same rag doll throwaway people of then, a few flowers amid the ever-augmenting profusion of weeds, trampled in steel bootprint, outsourced production pair on sale for a limited time offer of 12.99, money back gaurunteed (for 30 days after purchase, see overside for terms and limitations).
A Detritus Masterpiece
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Money and art and love and beauty and having all those things and losing all those things and some getting them back is what this book is all about. Gaddis predicts our ad-soaked future, our nation of lobbyists, our impractical education reforms, while also showing our inattentiveness to true art, our class-five-rapids-economy, and the mess that comes when we follow the letter of the law while ignoring its spirit. What's legal isn't always moral, and if someone else is just going to do it if you don't, should you?
One of the Best Books of the Last 50 Years
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Finally finished it!
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Would you consider the audio edition of JR to be better than the print version?
We owe Nick Sullivan a debt. His work here is unquestionably the best I've ever heard on an audiobook. Bravo.Phenomenal Audio Rendering of True Work of Genius
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Great performance
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Yes, but after but after getting both the text and the text and audio book, this became a literary experience like no other! The way the reader becomes a literal Participant in the book is a Great Metaphor for Capitalism & Money itself, as something you make real only thru ur cooperative imagination. The kind of book I wish I read in college!
Unrivaled Masterwork that helps the Read!
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I can't believe it was written in the 70s. With the financial upheaval we have gone through, it is still current.
This book is almost entirely dialogue, without any explanation of who is talking. The narrator takes the work out of following who is talking by keeping the characters straight for us.
Funniest book I've listened to
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writing that I can ever remember actually enjoying. And I really, really liked this. I never came across anything quite like it, before. And just how much the narrator was
responsible for how much I liked it...maybe more than 50%. Nick Sullivan truly
deserves the word "incredible" to describe how he carries this story from start to
finish. I've never heard of or read William Gaddis before listening to Mr. Sullivan
doing "JR". By this reading, Gaddis seems like a giant of American letters, a
genuine master artist of the written word.
If you insist on straightforward plotting and rapid pace...forget it. The work is looong
and meanders along routes that don't appear on any literary maps. But it does move
along. Its sometimes sad, sometimes funny, sometimes pessimistic, sometimes
uplifting...but for me, it was never dull. Mr. Gaddis and Mr. Sullivan combine to
produce as honest and entertaining a picture of the American dream as I've ever read.
Or heard.
This Is Good Stuff
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