ARCADE OF CRUELTY by Joseph Patrick Larkin

Also-Ran, 264 pages, paperback, $18.00

At 264 pages, Joseph Larkin’s Arcade of Cruelty is either the longest one-note joke I’ve ever read, or a masterstroke of Andy Kaufman-like commitment to pathetic absurdity. At its core, the book is a professionally produced autobiographical emo diary, featuring chapter after chapter of crude doodles, defaced yearbook photos, and scrapbooked women in bras, all culminating in a tome that wants to be an insanely funny suicide note but isn’t.

That’s not to say this graphic novel (?) doesn’t have its high points. In fact, the sections that shine most are the ones the skew away from the broad self-loathing that Larkin hopes to make his trademark. For example, in the final chapters, Larkin unleashes his rage on the post-9/11 culture, and it’s so biting that it’s a shame the book didn’t focus on that instead. He probably has a future career in taking swipes at others. The rest is stillborn, probably the victim of our post-dotcom blogging culture where one eager paparazzi can let you see your favorite starlet’s preferred brand of tampon. Everything in Arcade of Cruelty seems tepid and impersonal by comparison. What’s worse, you get the sense that Larkin is in on the farce, snidely sitting back while hoping that rubberneckers will slow down to glimpse his emotional car wreck on their way home from work.

My advice? Feel free to buy it or borrow it from a friend, but know that you’ll grow tired of its shtick well before the final chapter.