
It was a very strange time in Max’s life. The day before, his sister had tried, by proxy, to kill him. Her tobacco-chewing friends had chased him into his snow fort, and at the moment when he felt safest, in the cool white hollow, they had jumped on the roof, burying him. His sister had done nothing to help, and then had driven off with them, and to punish her, because she was no longer his sister, he’d doused her room with water. Buckets and buckets he’d emptied everywhere, in a furious, joyous process. It had been great, and felt so right, until his mother came home and found what he’d done. She was mad, Claire was mad, and so, tonight, the only person in the house who seemed to like him was his mom’s chinless boyfriend, Gary, and even thinking that sent a shudder through him.
It looks interesting to me, although I can imagine people gagging to death on just that one paragraph alone (which is itself longer than the entire book the adaptation is based on.) It's always interesting when writers try to write from the perspective of children, but it often doesn't go well. (I eventually forgave Nicholson Baker for The Everlasting Story of Nory.)
I am also looking forward to the furry edition of the adaptation, depicted at left. There will be a non-furry version for those of you with allergies.
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