A history of trauma, a half-drunk search for answers and the well-tanned soul of Arizona collide in Blackout: You Gotta Love Phoenix by Frank C. Senia, a hedonistic and tragic tale of reinvention.
Ken the optician is having a strange day; after waking up in Phoenix without much recollection of what brought him there, he begins to piece the mysterious puzzle together, while also exploring the idea of starting fresh in a new life surrounded by the sparkling temptations of Arizona. Within 24 hours of waking up in a motel room, the spontaneous 50-year-old narrator has already purchased a luxurious home and scored a date with a beautiful new friend, and the sorry state of his past already seems to be melting away.
His marriage of twenty years has collapsed back on the coast and his career has reached a dead end, so there has never been a better time to overturn the tables and start a brand-new life. It doesn’t take long for him to find plenty of things to take his mind off the sadness and isolation of his old world, but not everything is as easy or carefree as it seems.
Old insecurities and uncertainties subtly linger at the edges of this story, evidenced by the dark exposition of Ken’s abusive childhood and a defining moment with his father that changed his course forever. He also has to clean up his abandoned career, get in touch with his ex-wife, and navigate the tricky waters of his daughter’s emotions, all while leaping (often naked) from one new opportunity to another.
The narrator’s headlong rush into hedonism is both amusing and inspiring, a reminder that every day is a chance to turn everything around. Lingering over all of these seemingly bold decisions is Ken’s alcoholism, the crutch that has kept the demons at bay for more years than he can remember. With a decadent and careless attitude that echoes Hunter S. Thompson, this is a wild fling of a story, but one that often feels too wild to be true.
There are flashes of humor and unexpected wit in the writing, but it is generally an id-driven pleasure cruise through Ken’s fantasies and fumbling errors. From blowing it with a potential threesome to second-guessing all the rash decisions that have brought him to a different type of lonesome, there seems to be little consideration for the outcomes of his actions. At times, the writing feels like the fantasy journal of a teenage boy, or an oversexed college co-ed, rather than the vulnerable confessions of an emotionally complex and scarred middle-aged man.
The dialogue is often short or purely functional, while the internal monologue and short asides are often blunt and obvious – the classic advice of “show, don’t tell” readily applies here. The language is also fairly simplistic, with emotions being superficially explained, and the disparate points of Ken’s personality never seem to culminate in any progress or impactful self-reflection. This may be the point – a man staying in place – but this idea is left unexplored as well.
The occasional plot twists and suspenseful moments are bright spots, but there are many places where the writing could be boosted with descriptive language, more insightful narration, or extended conversations. That being said, Blackout is an easy, escapist read that could be knocked out in an afternoon, acting both as a guilty pleasure and a cautionary tale.
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