The Sisters Brothers

Luckily I didn't have to wait too long for the man to finish browsing through Patrick DeWitt's 'The Sisters Brothers'. The man was distracted by other books because he's one of those who can read 3 books at any one time, flip them halfway and put them aside for another. I can't. I need to sit and finish a book in one reading. I wonder why he picked up this book. Doesn't seem like his usual choices. From the first glance, it looks set to be something I'd like.

Yes, I totally enjoyed this one. An odyssey. What a hoot. Mostly because it's in tune to my preferences and sense of humor. It's light and easy. It's deadpan, but not corny. Oh, that red velvet cupcake from Plain Vanilla isn't mine. It's the man's. (Read reviews from The Guardian, The Washington Post and The New York Times.)

The waiter returned to clear the table and pointed at the remaining carrots. 'Didn't you care for the vegetables?' he asked naively.  

'All right,' I said. 'Take it away.' 

'More wine?''One more glass.' 

'Would you like any dessert?' 

'No! Goddamnit!'  

The tormented waiter hurried away from me. 

It's like an old western flick based on its setting during the California Gold Rush with a mastermind known as Commodore who hired killers who're brothers- Charlie and Eli Sisters. Charlie and Eli are supposed to kill this prospector who has annoyed the Commodore. So the tale begins on their murder mission and chronicles the obstacles along the way. The Sisters Brothers are either really unlucky, or just superbly formed comic characters. Hangovers, toothaches, spider bites! The death count is hilarious. There're humans, bears, horses, dogs and beavers.

This isn't a historical novel. So don't bother looking at landscape or background beyond the superficial. It's about listening to the brothers' the story and their 'trials and tribulations' on this journey. Although there aren't any philosophical insights, we get the moral arguments and newfound perspectives of whether there's a way out of this 'trap' of a zero-sum game of killing people in frontier culture.

We set up in a drafty, lopsided hotel at the southernmost end of town. There was but a single vacancy and Charlie and I were forced to share a room, when we typically kept individual quarters. Sitting before the wash basin, I laid out my toothbrush and powder and Charlie, who had not seen these before, asked me what I was doing. I explained and demonstrated the proper use of the tool and afterward smacked my jaws and breathed in deeply. 'It is highly refreshing to the mouth,' I told him. 

Charlie considered this. 'I don't like it,' he said. 'I think it's foolish.' 

'Think what you like. Our Dr. Watts says my teeth will never rot if I use the brush dependably.' 

Charlie remained skeptical. He told me I looked like a rabid beast with my mouth full of foam. I countered that I would prefer to look like one for minutes each day rather than smell like one all through my life, and this marked the end of our toothbrush conversation.