There's been so much said about this book over the past ten years that I don't know what I could add at this point.
It's not quite as homoerotic as I expected, I guess, but it's still awfully damn homoerotic. I'm not the kind to make armchair psychological evaluations of people I don't know, but...Frank may be seeking something he wants to deny himself.
And, of course, at some point in the '90s, Miller turned into a full-on parody of himself, without anyone noticing it.
Otherwise...eh. It's very nice-looking, but the narration is terribly overwrought and I don't particularly want to be in the head of a bunch of Spartans (particularly Miller's kind of Spartans) for more than a minute or two at a time. It's not a book I expect to ever re-read, and I don't intend to keep it.
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It's not quite as homoerotic as I expected, I guess, but it's still awfully damn homoerotic. I'm not the kind to make armchair psychological evaluations of people I don't know, but...Frank may be seeking something he wants to deny himself.
Shouldn't you be wearing your cape, Projection Boy?
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