Thoughts on The Activist.....

Once I cracked the binding of The Activist, I got lost in the writing of only the first chapter. It was not a lost that made me confused, but a lost that dragged me into the story. I felt like it was coming straight from the speaker’s mind, as if it was a stream of consciences. It got a picture in my head of the author sitting down at a type writer, writing on a long strand of telitote paper, sort of like how Jack Kerouac wrote “On the Road”. As I continued, it reminded me of the way I find writing in a journal appears. Long wordy sentences, obscure reference, and yet a clear picture coming to mind. I appreciated this, because I knew in the beginning it was about some one reporting on some sort of events. I didn’t know it would be on a radical activist group, or suburban guerilla warfare; but I knew that some for of reporting would take place.