, , , ,


Sometimes the title is enough to catch your attention for you to read the novel even without scrutinizing what it is all about. Suicide Blonde has that effect on me when I came face to face with it on a second-hand bookshop (never mind the semi-naked erotic cover photograph).

The story with its carefully written prose is about a young woman named Jesse’s sexual odyssey whose surfaces in a drug-taking, sexually provocative and misguided environment while trying to handle her bisexual boyfriend Bell; with his confused and unsteady relationship with her. Jesse also becomes Madame Pig’s caretaker and confidante, an obese and absurd woman together with her liberated daughter Madison, these alliance’s results to self-destruction.

Suicide Blonde has its creamy prose that you’ll find yourself reading passages for a lot of times to savor its beauty. But without these superfluous narrations, the novel will fall flat. I can’t seem to understand Jesse actions, it seems as if she has no connections with her every decisions. Oh yes, Bell is still in love with his ex-boyfriend (even though Jesse had had this in mind in which of course hurts her) but it looks like she doesn’t care. There’s no realization about it which makes me state that there’s no connection with her actions. Even though Jesse throws herself to anyone for self-destruction -which I cannot fathom and there are such ridiculous things other’s do but anyone can find understandable- there is no clear point in why she does it or permits it (yeah, readers will think it is because of her love for Bell that drives her to do such things, but unfortunately the book doesn’t suggest it).

I really hate to tell a novel isn’t good enough for any author can defend why they’ve written it as it is but I really can’t seem to understand the novel’s point. Anyway, though this is obviously not a good book, it’s not hard to understand that Steinke is a talented writer, her prose are carefully structured as if improving on life and with this focus makes her left something, the deftness of the story.

Despite what I’ve just said, I would look forward in reading this talented author hoping her other works is much better than this one.

Recommended? Isn’t it obvious?

Opening Sequence: Was it the bourbon or the dye fumes that made the pink walls quiver like vaginal lips?

Ending Sentence: If he died for my sins, I am grateful.