That, accomplished as this book is, it doesn’t do much that is new. Past the first two or three electrifying chapters, I spent most of my time reading this novel unable to ignore the nagging thought that my time would be better spent reading something else. Some of my favourites include “I push his far shoulder like I’m crowbarring open Tut’s tomb or I’m Lazarus moving aside the rock for the big reunion”, “I kneel down and get him onto my shoulders like a baby lamb, he’s a baby lamb now”, and “I’m right behind like the devoted husband for the water birth”. Perhaps the author’s greatest achievement is the way he describes wrestling matches: not by showing off all the research he did on the correct terminology, not by tediously compiling a list of I did this‘s and he did that‘s, but by describing key moments in each match through surreal and unexpected imagery. It looks at the obscure world of North Dakota college wrestling. Stephen Florida is a genuinely good book.
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