Cardiff Cut is a wild, Joycean, stream-of-consciousness tour of the
dark, seamy, night side of Cardiff. A young man, down and out, is
on an odyssey of drinking, thinking, and commenting on life and on
the underside of the Welsh capitol. The book and the language is
steeped in the city itself. The diction is the language of the
Cardiff streets, its unmistakable rhythm and melody; it is witty,
aggressive, obscene, and defiant. We follow him as he dodges fares
on the train, scrounges for drugs, tries to masturbate, and, thanks
to some magic mushrooms, has diarrhea. He ducks and dodges, is
arrogant, mean-spirited, aimlessly anarchic, peevish, and
self-pitying. His only redeeming quality seems to be his devotion
to Sal, the woman who waits at home for him. This is a challenging
book to read, thanks to its prose -- a rich, complex language
called Cardiffspeak: "cardiff central destiny the thermovitrine
keeps me warm & clean in carriage C; offers view in
reflectovision as we reach the city. Dribbling from stat into
queues of orange buses into taxicabs & cityslabs dark, consumer
durable & pissy."
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