Crazy

by William Peter Blatty
3.5 out of 5 stars

(Notes before I finished)
I have not read the Exorcist or any other Blatty works, nor did I realize this is the same author. That said...wow. This book is nostalgic, funny and maybe a little drug induced. I'm only about half way through, so I suppose it could still take a turn for the disturbing...I suspect there will be some sort of mental break/revelation, but thus far, main character Joey is just goofy and likeable even if he is prone to bizarre stream of consciousness ramblings* that are without punctuation or, for that matter, a map.

Mostly Crazy about this kid making his way through adolescence, loving a strange girl and going to Catholic school in 1941. Thing is, the girl is even stranger than he, and nobody else really knows who she is ... some even deny her existence. Hmmm.

The only thing that’s bothersome is it’s not just Joey who’s prone to eccentric ramblings, but many other characters as well, and that makes the story a lot less believable. You find yourself wondering how it could be possible that so many hormonal self-absorbed adolescents in this school could be so empathic, poetic, weird, and articulate. But still, it’s a fun read. Hopefully there won't be any pea soup forthcoming.

*Page 65 is a good example:
"Head lowered, arms folded across my chest, I pondered the mystery enfolding Jane like an aura with ever-changing colors – on the one hand anxious for Monday to come when I’d be seeing her again and could get to the bottom of some things, and on the other already dreading the approaching end of the weekend and returning to the drabness of school, most especially with winter coming on when in the morning instead of walking five blocks in the freezing rain with cardboard in my shoes to plug the holes, I’d want to fake a bad cold so I could stay snug and warm in my bed while endlessly polishing my vast collection of secret decoder rings and badges and listening to grown-up radio serials like Pretty Kitty Kelly and The Romance of Helen Trent, although never The Romance of Consuelo Chavez, I noticed, or Pretty Sandra Shapiro. Only summer seemed livable to me then, and I even welcomed chubby old Sister Louise’s constant warnings of the dreaded June Regents exams in her husky, sandpaper voice, "In the merry of month of June you’ll be sweating," a threat she invariably personalized by always turning to glare at Bill Choirelli and adding a heartfelt "You fat tub of guts!" – which today might bring a lawsuit and find Sister Louise in an orange hood and jumpsuit doing the perp walk into some courthouse croaking loudly, "On the merry Day of Judgment all you ACLU scumbags will be sweating!" This followed by Foley, Balequi and a few other bystanders quietly applauding and murmuring, "Hear, now! Hear! Hear, hear!" Foley idolized Sister Louise. Her position on torture would have never been in doubt."