The nameless narrator is a writer in a world where only a few dozen books have ever been written. He’s hounded by his ex Margaret, and, because talking tigers killed his folks, he lives in a compound called iDEATH where everything’s made of watermelon. A nearby villain called inBOIL lives in The Forgotten Works and grumbles about the integrity of iDEATH.
… riiiiight.
If you didn’t know that In Watermelon Sugar was written by a mentally-unstable alcoholic hippie in the ‘60s, you’d probably guess that it was, wouldn’t you? Because it was.
Gawd knows what it’s meant to be about - and that’s generously assuming that it is about something. It sounds vaguely dystopian but it’s not sci-fi. It’s about life on a commune I guess? Which is pretty banal apparently. Narrator’s ex Margaret wants to get back with him but he doesn’t because she seems to like the evil inBOIL (no idea what’s with these names either) so he’s with Pauline who cooks iDEATH’s meals. Yawn.
It might be a metaphorical story with the watermelon and tigers symbolising something but who knows - it might’ve just made the author chuckle and that’s why it is the way it is.
In Watermelon Sugar isn’t even a half-decent novel. It’s the inane, pointless ramblings of Richard Brautigan and amounts to zilch. I’m confident I will forget this novel in totality in no time. My impression of Brautigan is that he’s the poor man’s Kurt Vonnegut.
Still, there’s something unique here - the narrative is strange, imaginative, unpredictable, if unfocused - and that kept me turning the pages. But when I finished the novel - and, my word, is it a quick read - I mentally shrugged and thought, so what? Why do people like Richard Brautigan? Much like pondering on what In Watermelon Sugar is about, I have no idea. All I know is I doubt I’ll ever read anything by him again.
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