Vaseline Buddha
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"A tragicomic odyssey told through free association from South Korea's most enigmatic contemporary authors scrubs the depths of the human psyche to achieve a higher level of consciousness equal to Zen meditation. The story opens when our sleepless narrator thwarts a would-be thief outside his moonlit window, then delves into his subconscious imagination to explore a variety of geographical and mental locations--real, unreal, surreal--to explore the very nature of reality...."--Cover, p.[4]
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It's rambling stream of consciousness akin to what Lucy Ellman is trying with Ducks, Newburyport - but even more disjointed and obtuse. Moon will spend a page recounting a story, then admit to having made the whole thing up which sends him on several tangents. It's an anti-travelogue, a depressive monologue, a barely coherent, plotless ramble filled with circuitous language that eats itself. Young-moon Jung is having a conversation with the reader inviting them into the very process of writing - often driven by boredom and looping, repetitive thoughts.
