And Now, a Haiku for Jubilee

Drug-induced stupors,
thrusting brush strokes and raw sex:
Jubilee City

If only life was a novella

I've never imagined someone who would choose to condense their life, or at least half of it, into such a succinct piece of prose. Is it not the point of a memoir to elevate your relatively meaningless life into a microcosm of the human condition by extending out every event ad nauseam? How can that be achieved in barely 200 pages?
It's clever in a way. Most authors use their style as reflective of the book's purpose, and in that, Andoe was definitely successful.
I found that Jubilee City offered an infinitesimal amount self-reflection, and hardly a single attempt at objectivity. For the most part, it was frustrating as hell. But that is not to say Andoe is not a reflective person, or someone who can look back on his life and see certain events for what they really were. I wouldn't know. Nevertheless, the narrative style is brilliantly indicative of the lifestyle he led, as one living whilst drowned in substance abuse, failed relationships and rebellion would see the world around him in a highly egocentric way. In that, Andoe is attempting to bring a truthful perspective on his own life, a life that I am sure, to him, flew by as fast as it took to read the book.

**Forty-Two Review** Jubilee City by Joe Andoe

Take an artistic redneck Hunter Thompson, give him a pencil, some beer bottle labels and some rolling papers, and here's the memoir he’ll scratch out. After the weed smoke dissapates, we must ask: how subjective is Andoe's memory? Is subjectivity really bad?

42 (actually 57 if counted correctly) of Jubilee City

With the speed of a short story collection, the eccentric abruptness of Alice in Wonderland, and the poetic rawness of Jack Kerouac, Jubilee City is a unique, genre-bending book, combining art and writing in an interesting way. Whether Andoe's unconventional style suits you or not, it can't be denied that he takes you for quite the ride.

**42 for Jubilee City**

Jubilee City takes the reader on a straight-to-the-point journey through the life of Joe Andoe, an artist who went from Tulsa to New York City and managed to have a family, divorce his wife, do some drugs, and sell some paintings.

from the blogging virgin (EEK!)

Jump into this journey from rural Oklahoma to acclaimed artist—a convoluted, non-chronological web of abuse, perversion, and infatuation. Andoe’s memories are raw and haphazardly structured as he demonstrates how talent survived (even fostered in?) a dysfunctional world of drugs and loneliness.

for will: a 42 on jubilee city...

A coked up memoir about a guy finding his way into art. (Something like that.) Crisp, brief vignettes of figures in his life, and a lot of recaps from his druggy phase. I just wish we had seen more of his art.

and now for a new place to voice strange and wonderful opinions

is this thing on?