Esquire writing is so weird. It’s genuinely like a relic from another age.
“ They drank tumblers of Irish whiskey filled to the brim, illicit pours they secured with ten-dollar tips to a curvy Dominican bartender.”
“ For the price of three beers, he told me his story.”
“ In the two decades since the show aired, a hundred thousand American Spirits had yellowed Bob’s fingers and turned his voice to gravel.”
When I read things like this I find it very hard to take the wider message seriously, because it feels like writing-as-cosplay, the writer inhabiting a caricature of “hard bitten” and inserting that at the forefront of the piece.
Why must it be a caricature? Many successful writers are some rather extreme people, which is probably part of the reason why they're successful. Reality is, as always, far stranger than fiction, and a lifetime of exceptional experience is the writer's palette.
I could not for the life of me guess what in particular is wrong with at least the second example here, if not the others. Can you explain what you mean? Is it the very mention of beers and cigarettes that perhaps triggers this reaction?
“ They drank tumblers of Irish whiskey filled to the brim, illicit pours they secured with ten-dollar tips to a curvy Dominican bartender.”
“ For the price of three beers, he told me his story.”
“ In the two decades since the show aired, a hundred thousand American Spirits had yellowed Bob’s fingers and turned his voice to gravel.”
When I read things like this I find it very hard to take the wider message seriously, because it feels like writing-as-cosplay, the writer inhabiting a caricature of “hard bitten” and inserting that at the forefront of the piece.
Very odd.
Personally, I liked the writing.
Playing Santa did strange things to Bob Rutan
or just the first line of the Esquire title:
Playing Santa does strange things to a man