Lance Olsen

Lance Olsen writes:

Slowly, [Hieronymus] Bosch came to admit that he would never be famous. He would never be the talk of this town, or any other. The recognition ached like a body full of bruises. He could hardly wait to take his place before his easel every morning to find out what his imagination had waiting for him, yet he had to make peace with the bristly fact that recognition was a boat built for others. He had to content himself of the rush of daily finding – the way milled minerals mixed precisely with egg whites create astounding carmines, creams, cobalts; how the scabby pot-bellied rats scurrying through his feverscapes were not really pot-bellied rats at all, but the lies flung against the true church day after day.… (more)

Many years ago I read Burnt from Lance Olsen, and it had, probably, the funniest scene I've ever read. The rest of the book was great too. Then I read Freaknest and thought it wasn't very good. I've had this sitting on my shelf for at least 15 years, probably longer. I was hoping it would be hilarious and insightful. It was, at times, pretty funny, but most of the time it was just kind of boring day-in-the-life kinda stuff. When it wasn't funny or boring it was confusing. I could tell my wife was not liking it either so we bailed about 70% of the way through.

Not saying I wouldn't give another Olsen book a try, but he's at 1 for 3 right now.… (more)