In the United States of Amoeba, Amoebans have always been ready to judge
who is an Amoeban and who isn't. First generation have always been
looked at as outsiders, immigrants, scum. Islanders, being the brains of
Amoeba, take this even further. To them I will always be an immigrant.
Not just an immigrant, a Mexican. Spic. Wetback. If the Natives had
their way the GW, Williamsburg, and Brooklyn would be drawbridges. The
Lincoln and Midtown blown up. They are forced to accept the notion of
coexistence, but are always quick on the trigger of subtle reminding. I
grew up here son or back in the day. Yeah, and forever shall you stay
here. Son. Your island, your prison. Without your tired-ass references,
what the hell have you got? Alcatraz east. And when a Native dares leave
the Island don't think they go five goddamn minutes without letting all
comers know their derivation. If it isn't back in the day it's some
uptown Native dropping private school names. To them I am forever a
Mexican. Fucking bring it.
-Brantly Martin, Pillage
The love child of Charles Bukowski and Bret Easton Ellis, Brantly Martin
provides a brutal yet hilarious look at the lives of Manhattan's
downtown elite at the dawn of the new millennium in Pillage, his first
novel.
Detailing the decadent descent of Cracula and his crew, Martin lures us
into the shadowy ambiguities of addiction-a world where desire meets
destruction and the perversity of this pathos is often laughable. Be it
urban wildebeest Aeronymous, the wigga with a taste for BAPE sweaters
and iced coffees; the Fireman, the overgrown adolescent who knows the
quickest way to your ex-girlfriend's bed; or the Reverend, who rejected
the sins of his brothers to save the Africans from themselves, the
entitled creatures of this novel plunder what remains of a once-vibrant
culture and reap the spoils of our languorous generation.
Between eight balls of cocaine and pints of Patrón, Cracula fluctuates
between reality and fantasy, hyper-aware of the façades, formulas, and
falsehoods that encircle his existence, but unable to gain an advantage.
Pillage reveals the inherent hypocrisy of America's social and economic
achievements, as they are made manifest in the city that never sleeps,
slyly implying that triumph is a trap in itself-and the only way out?
Just ask Kurt Cobain...
Brantly brings new meaning to clubland's term, 'happy house.' Pillage is
a wonderfully written, hilarious tragedy set in the playgrounds of the
avant garde, sure to break if not bend some well known noses. I laughed
and cried from cover to cover.
-Mark Baker, the Godfather of New York nightlife
