Sordid-1's Full Review: Laurence Shames - Sunburn: A Novel
Escapist literature is not usually my forte. I generally feel the need to be productive, to read something that will educate me, enlighten me, give me information that I can apply to my life. The term “guilty pleasure” is very apt for my view of lightweight reading fare – I tend to enjoy it, but am simultaneously cognizant of the fact that I could be accomplishing something much more edifying with my time. That is actually a rather odd outlook for someone who willingly fritters away scads and scads of hours on inconsequential activities. If I’m going to flush my hours, minutes, and seconds down the toilet with alternative meaningless timesucks, why don’t I just embrace the inner slacker and extend that attitude to my choice of reading material, too? I mean, there is no reason to merely limit one’s reading diet to substantial, meaty fare, everyone should be entitled to some mind candy once in awhile, right? Armed with this new attitude, I dove into Laurence Shames’ lightweight novel, Sunburn, hoping to reshape a “guilty pleasure” into merely a “pleasure.” It mostly worked.
Sunburn served its purpose. It provided me with several hours of escapist pleasure, sans the guilt. Set in the Florida Keys, it unravels the escapades of a rather unorthodox family consisting of an aging Italian mob boss, his shallow, power-hungry son, and his straight, illegitimate, half-Jew son. A recurring theme is the concept of “family” – both in the mob sense and in the genetic, tied together by blood sense. The mobster, Vincente Delgatto, clearly feels more affection for his bastard son than for his elder child who is following in his footsteps and clearly striving hard (too hard) to please his father. This grates on the older boy, Gino, and the harder he tries to please Pop, the more distanced he becomes. After the death of his wife (the elder boy’s father), Delgatto travels to Florida to spend some time with his younger boy, Joey.
Joey convinces his father that it would be cathartic to write an auto-biography and even hooks him up with a writer friend, Artie Magnus, who ends up developing a bond with Delgatto (as well as an “extra-special” bond with Gino’s girlfriend – whoops!) The inherent dangers in an insider’s “tell-all” book revealing mob secrets eventually surface. Right in the midst of turmoil within the New York Mafia, word “leaks” out about Delgatto’s literary venture. The requisite thrills, intrigue, action, reaction, crime, punishment, and creative use of natural laxatives ensues. A good time is not had by all.
Shames lays out his story at a pleasing pace, unfolding it in such a way that it does not drag yet allows the characters to develop and avoids the hurried, frenetic pace to which many other thriller authors are beholden. Some of the characterization is thin (Gino, in particular, is rather one-dimensional), and some of the plot twists predictable, but, overall, the novel still succeeds. It doesn’t require any massively self-deluding suspension of disbelief to swallow the tale, and Shames’ good humor and able descriptive skill keeps the reader’s mind in the book.
It is a bit crude and lurid at times, but not overly so. Nevertheless, I would not recommend reading it to small children or clergymen. For a little taste, let’s look at some commentary provided by Bert “the Shirt” d’Ambrosia (a retired thug) while addressing Vincente Delgatto. This conversation occurs immediately after a (painfully in-depth) description of Bert’s aged and constipated chihuahua trying (unsuccessfully) to move its tired old bowels.
"Fuckin' age,” said Bert the Shirt. He gave his head a slow shake; his white hair with its glints of bronze and pink caught the sunlight different ways. “Poor dog don't even jerk off no more. Used to be he'd lick his balls. Once, twice a week he'd hump a table leg, try ta fuck a squeak toy. Ya know, he showed some zip. Now? Two fuckin' bites a dog food, a heart pill, drops in 'is eyes. His big thrill? He can pee onna rug, I don't yell at him no more. Some fuckin' life huh?”
Bert was referring to the dog, but he may as well have been talking about Delgatto. Vincente was in the process of coming to terms with his own loss of vitality (both physically and professionally), and, like most elderly folks, seldom licked his balls or fucked squeak toys. There are definite drawbacks to aging.
Sunburn is a sequel to an earlier novel, Florida Straits (which I also intend to read). However, I did not know that until after I had completed this book. Sunburn works just fine as a stand-alone novel, making no references to the events in the previous book and requiring no foreknowledge. I don’t want to spoil any of the numerous plot twists, but I will say this: they eventually find a cure for the chihuahua’s constipation. And this book proved a cure for my mental constipation, purging out the heavy, lingering crap, and providing exactly what it was designed to give – escape.
Epinions.com periodically updates pricing and product information from third-party sources, so some information may be slightly out-of-date. You should confirm all information before relying on it.
- Add to My Yahoo!: 
- Add to Google Homepage: 
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.