Rarely have I looked forward to a book more than to Kamper Day’s Heading for Goatburg. I was full of expectation. I was full of questions. I was full of the old desire to open on the first page. I was full of eagerness to look at the words, starting from the first. I was prepared to indulge in sentences of exorbitant value. Heading for Goatburg. Just the title. Was it a ferry and possibly a pier belonging to it? A pier throwing itself into the waves and swimming with the ferry and singing and waving until it returned, exhausted?
Damn it. It was a self-help book disguised as a novel. A self-help book that literally stops in the middle of a sentence, it simply stops on page 33 and becomes an intricate proof that the human brain is not functioning. The proof is presented by a walking Westy Hatting to Dawn Pebster. Every time Dawn protests against Westy’s philosophical monologue, she walks straight into a lamppost.
