First, let me start out by saying that there are aspects of Waiting Period that are definitely admirable, even if, all in all, the novel doesn't quite work. Selby Jr. is a master at creating characters whose heads you can get right into, and who can likewise get back into yours. When the narrator of Waiting Period is paranoid, you feel paranoid, when he's depressed, you struggle to even turn the page, because what's the point? You're with him, truly, and from page one, it's go for broke.Unfortunately, the narrator is never really in a normal, healthy sort of good mood. His only joy comes from committing anti-social acts and each happy moment is affixed with a twinge of impending doom. So, Waiting Period can be a bit of a bring down. This, on its own, is not a problem. Some of the best books are crushing (Selby Jr.'s own Requiem for a Dream being an excellent example). The problem with Waiting Period is that the narrative is too stagnant for its own good. At a slim 200 pages, no part of the novel should feel like a trek to get through, and yet the stream of consciousness prose (again, on its own, not an issue) stretches out simple events to fifteen or twenty pages as the narrator's mind wanders in and out of whatever simple task he's doing. Then, when the novel threatens to switch into high gear, as in the scene at the county fair, or the bombings, the action comes off as slight.It's as if Selby Jr. was attempting to make each aspect of the novel as unlikable as possible (which, I'm not quite convinced that he wasn't). The narrator gets no sympathy from me, whatsoever, although the second, omniscient presence seems to indicate that by getting inside of the deranged mind of a vigilante, the reader would automatically understand his perspective. Worse, neither he, nor the book itself have anything provocative to say about the justice system, vigilantism, or alienation. The ending especially is weak, and sputters out anticlimactically (on purpose again, I believe, but without the deftness and grace of a more masterful work).This is lesser Hubert Selby Jr. for sure, and as his final work, it does little to solidify the reputation he'd (rightfully) earned early in his career as a daring, darkly outspoken, and unique literary voice. Here, there is no ground broken. Readers expecting to get dirty should look elsewhere.
Waiting Period is the story of a severely depressed and angry man who decides to ragequit life by eating a gun. When he goes to buy one a computer glitch forces him to wait a few days, during which time he decides his time would be better spent killing others, namely those he blames for everything that is wrong in the world.Written in the stream of consciousness style that is Selby's signature, this is by far the weakest of his works I have ever read. I am very glad that I read Requiem for a Dream and Last Exit to Brooklyn first instead of this one, otherwise I would never have had the intestinal fortitude to check out any of his other novels. Normally I refrain from reviewing books I haven't finished but in this case I feel a sacred duty to warn others away from this dreck lest it taint their opinion of his otherwise madskillz.The nameless protagonist's sociopathic whining was akin to a grater on the cheese of my literary sensibilities. What Mr. Selby failed to realize with this particular novel was that if you are going to spend an entire book inside someone's head, there had better be some intriguing stuff in there. What makes it truly tragic is that this idea had great potential and familiarity with his other works makes me confident that Selby had the chops to pull it off. Out of respect for his other works I will simply assume that he ran out of fucks to give and just blasted this book out of his ass in a fit of artistic dysentery.Not recommended unless you're a masochist. Check out Requiem for a Dream, Last Exit to Brooklyn or The Willow Tree instead.
What do You think about Waiting Period (2003)?
Selby’s final novel about a suicidal war veteran who tries to buy a gun to kill himself. A computer glitch delays approval of the purchase for a few days, during which he has a revelation: why kill himself when he could be killing people who deserve it – starting with the VA clerk who denied him his benefits? The story is told in the psychotic stream-of-consciousness internal dialogue that Selby does so well (with intermittent commentary from a mystery character who watches and approves of his development into a righteous serial killer), and it does a pretty good job of expressing the fears and anger that drives the man to kill. But somehow it lacks the impact of Selby’s best books, if only by comparison. It also feels unfinished, as though Selby didn’t follow the story to its logical conclusion. That may have been the point, but it does feel anticlimactic.
—John Defrog
The very first Selby I read and I must say, I was blown away. I devoured this book in a single sitting and I strongly recommend it to anyone who enjoys reading from a mentally disturbed characters point of view. It's entirely in this man's mind and to watch his disintegration into madness is hypnotic. The writing is captivating and it really does feel as though you are inside this man's mind. The book starts to move at an incredibly rapid pace toward the later part but you never feel lost. Selby did an amazing job and I would suggest to anyone to read this.
—Kreese
Cubby’s swansong is a blackly comedic novel about a suicidal nerd who decides to off the bureaucrat that wronged him instead of taking his own life. By manipulating a strain of E-coli bacteria and furtively inserting it into his victim’s coke, he succeeds in his plan to dispense with the faceless desk vulture, and decides to increase his repertoire of sly E-coli murders like a nerdier Charles Bronson until the novel ends on a morally ambiguous note. Not unlike B.S. Johnson’s Christie Malry’s Own Double-Entry, this last work from Selby fizzles with dark comic energy and his (now tired) stylistic run-ons and stream-con. As a bitter bow-out from the world of letters, and the world, Waiting Period triumphs, leaving pellets of pain in all unsuspecting do-goody readers.
—MJ Nicholls
