A man I used to have sex with in California recommended this book to me. One sublime post-coital morning I noticed that his bookshelves were well populated with Boyle's books. I told the man that I'd never read any of Boyle's work. "Here," the man said. "Start with this one." At first I thought he'd given me the book because he knew I was an avid pot smoker. But then I grew hopeful that he meant for the book to have some symbolic meaning. As in, our pairing was its own "budding prospect." That was just me being hopeful. It's a good thing I'm more pessimist and quitter than anything else, because it came as no surprise when the man eventually stopped wanting to have sex with me. But what about the book? I loved it. Absolutely loved it. I will most definitely be reading more of this man's work. Boyle is not merely a fantastic storyteller, he is a lover of language. His prose is perky, he retains a light mood, but never at the expense of intelligent diction. You are learning something as you read. You are learning that good stories need not be devoid of good words, and that it takes a very special artistry to combine the two in such an appealing, engaging fashion. I'm glad the man introduced me to Boyle.
It was ok. I read enough of this to be satisfied. This was a pretty thin story, but he fattens up the book at literally every opportunity. I don't mind a writer exercising their vocabulary, especially when it really works, but I can't stand witnessing a writer's masturbatory language burnout. Boyle is ridiculous. And it isn't charming and poetic like Tom Robbins; it's just kind if gross and definitely annoying and awful, awful snobbish in the most I-want-to-serve-you-an-open-face-f-you-sandwich kind if way. Here's how Boyle says that laughing at an inexperienced man shooting a shotgun is inevitable:-The ineluctable modality of the risible. p. 97Is this guy serious? 'Fraid so. And, as I tap out at page 100, I'm serious about not taking this kind of crap anymore. Life's too short to read a book where you have to use a dictionary 10 times a chapter, 3 times in a six word sentence. Peace. Smell ya later.
This book is about five morons who decide to grow pot in the middle of nowhere to make money. Everything they can do wrong, they do, including burning down the sad little shack they live in.The story would've been much better if the main characters had stopped lucking out and started getting what they deserved. The beauty of tragedy is when the hero is finally brought down. Because the hammer never fell, it seemed like I was being strung along. And the level of writing was not up to TC Boyle's u
—Sarah
A previous owner of this copy of "Budding Prospects" wrote on the front page: "Beautiful writing style devoted to thoroughly immature, immoral subject matter. What could be more perfect?" I would have to agree with this sentiment. I thought this novel, Boyle's second, was extremely funny and one of his best. Very intelligent writing with some great characters and lots of humor. The story of 3 misfits trying to make a half million bucks by growing pot in the hills of Mendocino California, is not exactly what I thought it would be - it was much better. Boyle's stories never seem to disappoint.
—Frank
I thought if Prop 19 passed, this would be a quaint reminder of the bygone days of prohibition, but since Prop 19 didn't pass, this book may serve as a field guide, cautionary tale, and call to arms for DIY 420ers. A pastoral set in 1970s California about a dude who never finishes anything who goes in with two buddies to solve all his woes by making a big killing clandestinely raising a crop of pot in the mountains of NoCal. As with most Boyle novels, anything that can go wrong for the narrator does go wrong and as they say, hilarity ensues as our hero attempts to see one project through to the bitter end.Don't ask me how this book ended up in my small-town library when I was in high school, but it introduced me to Boyle's great command of language and strong narrative voice.
—Chris
