Wretched. Former Warhol Factory girl, Woronov sets her novel Snake at least two decades too late. I kept forgetting I was reading about a heroine from my generation rather than my mother’s and when I remembered I often wondered why she didn’t just turn the calendar back twenty years. Cassandra was only tolerable as a little girl, while meant to be bewitching, the author fails to cast a spell for the reader. Meandering off onto a path of destruction, my sympathy for the character was never stirred. I just felt embarrassed for the author. ( )

This is another enjoyable memoir from a Factory regular. If it had been published when I was in high school, I almost definitely would have read it then. It's short, generally easy reading. Woronov unapologetically writes about her drug use, sexual ambiguity, cruelties, and family and religous issues. She seems neither proud nor ashamed of the dark areas of her past. In the end, she reserves her most tender sentiment for her late companion Ondine. Reading this in 2012, I was reminded of Patti Smith's Just Kids. That book is a much more revealing, emotionally honest, sensitive, and elegantly written memoir. Woronov's memoir is entertaining, but nowhere near as satisfying. ( )

Review snippet: Perhaps lives were saved but the scene ends thusly:

"By the third day we were so exhausted that Ondine ended up in the bathtub trying to suck his own dick and I lay on my back with my neck on the bathroom threshold using the door frame as my imaginary guillotine (there comes a time when everyone needs their own guillotine). When I asked Ondine why he didn’t just get someone else to blow him, he practically had a fit. “You think this is about getting off? Getting off what? The planet? It’s impossible, I’ve tried! I am the last Oboroborus left in captivity. Perhaps I should introduce myself, the snake that swallows its own tail. This, my dear, is about resurrection, not sex. And if this were about sex, I don’t think I would be asking you. Everyone has forgotten the origin of the bathtub – baptism. I’m being born, you fool, now close the door.”

“He’s pregnant,” Jane whispered, “Ondine, can I get you some pickles and ice cream?”

“At last, someone who understands. Thank you Jane, that would be wonderful. Now, close the door, darling, I want to see Mary’s head roll.”

Actually, the scene really doesn’t end because scenes with speed freaks never really end. Jane, Mary’s roommate, thinks she catches pregnancy from Ondine and it goes on from there. Jane eventually cracks, as you do when you have a speeded up Mary for a roommate and her favorite person spends hours in your tub trying to blow himself. Mary vows to make sure her life does not harm Jane much in the future.

You can read my entire discussion here: http://ireadoddbooks.com/swimming-underground-by-mary-woronov/ ( )