Saint the Terrifying

There is not a genre of punk-rock fantasy as far as I'm aware, or at least there wasn't until I read Saint the Terrifying. The story had me hooked in just the first few pages, though for very personal reasons. If you have ever seen the documentary Turn It Around: The Story of East Bay Punk, read about the punk club Gilman Street in the pages of Maximum Rocknroll back when it was iconic, or just loved the band Jawbreaker, it might have that same effect on you. The story features a character we come to know as Saint, a troubled punk with one eye and a prison record, and like Joyce's Ulysses the narrative follows his adventures over the course of one day. Saint is complicated--a recovering addict, violence-prone, but with a distinct sense of justice. What comes completely out of left field, though, is his fascination with his Viking heritage, passed on by his Norwegian father in lessons worthy of ninja movie. The result is a story that could be made into an action film, with fights and gore galore. What kept me going, kept me turning pages, though, was Saint's compassion to another addict named Jesse and the inside jokes about the punk scene from back in the day--with many a good-humored dig at Green Day that made me laugh. As someone that grew up in a punk scene somewhere in the Midwest and who longingly looked to all the cool things going in D.C. and at Gilman in San Francisco, this was a lot of fun. If I was still sixteen, I would read it over and over, just like I watched Suburbia and The Decline of Western Civilization over and over again.

There is not a genre of punk-rock fantasy as far as I'm aware, or at least there wasn't until I read Saint the Terrifying. The story had me hooked in just the first few pages, though for very personal reasons. If you have ever seen the documentary Turn It Around: The Story of East Bay Punk, read about the punk club Gilman Street in the pages of Maximum Rocknroll back when it was iconic, or just loved the band Jawbreaker, it might have that same effect on you. The story features a character we come to know as Saint, a troubled punk with one eye and a prison record, and like Joyce's Ulysses the narrative follows his adventures over the course of one day. Saint is complicated--a recovering addict, violence-prone, but with a distinct sense of justice. What comes completely out of left field, though, is his fascination with his Viking heritage, passed on by his Norwegian father in lessons worthy of ninja movie. The result is a story that could be made into an action film, with fights and gore galore. What kept me going, kept me turning pages, though, was Saint's compassion to another addict named Jesse and the inside jokes about the punk scene from back in the day--with many a good-humored dig at Green Day that made me laugh. As someone that grew up in a punk scene somewhere in the Midwest and who longingly looked to all the cool things going in D.C. and at Gilman in San Francisco, this was a lot of fun. If I was still sixteen, I would read it over and over, just like I watched Suburbia and The Decline of Western Civilization over and over again.