“Robert Browning had the clap. And he caught it from Charlotte and Emily Brontë.”
A theological philosophical masterwork disguised as Catch-22. While mainly known for its 1980 film adaptation, a film that has surprisingly good ratings for Rayourmovies’s standards (anything higher than a 3.39 means the movie’s pretty excellent), I haven’t seen it or the very cheesy biker bar segment everyone mentions when discussing the movie (although the portrayal of the scene in this book isn’t particularly cheesy), therefore I am not fit to comment on whether the book is better. I’m not sure why Blatty thought I’d care about Bennish, Krebs, or Fromme enough for them to deserve an epilogue considering the book is only 160 pages and I’d honestly mostly forgotten about them when they weren’t being outright mentioned. Although I’m glad we got all that info on Reno’s dog adaptation of Hamlet, that was pretty important. The ending is sobering. Interesting how when you first start reading, you think Cutshaw is just faking the craziness, and by the end, you realize he’s actually crazy. Anyway, I really liked it. I haven’t read The Exorcist though and I never intend to bye
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