Product Description

Zoey’s fevered existence is sketched in alternating chapters of past and present. Her past buzzes with memories of a Catholic girlhood. Her present is still more addled, penning smutty books and acting as receptionist for women in leather. Author Estep — who has performed slam poetry on MTV and appeared on the Charlie Rose Show, PBS, and other venues — avoids the twin pitfalls of maudlin compassion and phony redemption in this vivid tale.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #1015330 in Books
• Published on: 2003-09-26
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 184 pages

From Library Journal
Estep started out as a spoken-word performer, stomping out onto poetry-slam stages and delivering her witty, sometimes angry prose to loud, appreciative audiences. In addition, she has been featured on MTV and performed at Lollapalooza. Her first novel will surely thrill her fans and seduce new ones from the body-pierced, Gen-X crowd as well as Ginsberg and Kerouac followers. As the novel opens, the clean and sober Zoe is holed up in her ex-lover's apartment fantasizing about chaining him up and making him perform menial tasks. From this vantage point, we see flashbacks to her former life as a heroin addict frequently repulsed after a few days with a new boyfriend, writing porn novels for a living, and even cleaning her drug dealer's toilet for a fix. Estep has an incredible ability to make even the most disturbing scenes absurdly hilarious. Recommended for libraries serving a trendy population.?Editha Ann Wilberton, Kansas City P.L., Kan.
Copyright 1997 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Booklist
Zoe is in Satan's closet ("Satan" is what Zoe calls her ex-boyfriend). She let herself into his apartment and closet to tie him up while he sleeps so she can degrade him as revenge. Meanwhile, she tells in flashback how she arrived here (physically and emotionally) and how she joined the "emotional idiots" (friends of hers addicted to food, sex, or drugs), whom she manages to depict as average people trying to balance their desires with society's demands. Estep is a performance artist, and the tone of her first novel is conversational. Zoe's worldview and way of communicating are strong but charming. She sympathizes with the book's many quirky characters. Although they often act irrationally, their actions ring true if one does not analyze or criticize their motives. Ranging from small towns in Pennsylvania through a visit to Tunisia, a stint in Boulder, Colorado, and ending up in New York City, Zoe's story reminds the reader just how magical and random every person's journey is--whatever closet they may be in. Kevin Grandfield

From Kirkus Reviews
MTV's favorite performance artist, a self-styled rebel poet, now commits herself to print in this utterly conventional, at times semi-literate, narrative: an episodic tale of romance in the East Village, with interspersed memories of a screwed-up childhood. Zoe, the posturing narrator of this ``document of Emotional Idiocy,'' is a young woman much like the author: She plays bass guitar, writes porn novels for money, and saves her true self for poetry. She also works part-time as a receptionist in an S&M dungeon, which is perhaps where she learns to be so blas‚ about sextalk. Zoe's ``emotional idiocy'' no doubt results from her dysfunctional past. Her parents divorced early on, and she grew up in places as varied as Colorado and France. Later, she joined her itinerant father as he bummed from job to job as a horse-stable manager. Eventually, though, she ends up living in a New York tenement, where her neighbors include hookers, junkies, strippers, a Heavy Metal guy, a Hefty Lesbian, Japanese fashion students, and a superintendent with an unusually long penis. She and her best friends join together to form Idiots Anonymous, a group with membership restricted to ``dope fiends, sex addicts, or thieves.'' Such is the cool world of la vie bohŠme: Zoe herself studies Burroughs's Junkie, makes the obligatory pilgrimage to Morocco, becomes a ``shaky junkie chick,'' and then detoxs and rehabs. Her desultory sex life includes lots of bad guys, masturbation, and some obligatory lesbianism. In the narrative's present time, she's keeping vigil in the closet of her latest ex, a.k.a. ``Satan.'' Poetical outbursts (e.g., she's ``scrubbing the metaphoric toilets of love'') only add to the pretentious claptrap here. Heroin chic, S&M chic, ``the arts'' as a lifestyle choice--all sound like a great idea for a Broadway musical, if only Jonathan ``Rent'' Larsen hadn't gotten there first. (Author tour) -- Copyright ©1997, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.

Customer Reviews

Funny, sad, and strange.
I am heartbroken that this book is no longer in print. A few years ago, when I was flat broke, I found myself so engrossed by it that I read it while sitting on the floor of a bookstore because I couldn't afford to buy it, not just once but twice. Now that I can afford it it's unavailable. Estep is strange, original, and gruesomely funny; this (apparently) autobiographical first novel is unlike anything else I've ever read, a mixture of high culture, punk rock, drugs, sex, romance, and idealism. Throughout Estep chronicles her own and others' losses and dreams with spare, deadpan sentences. These events almost seem to speak for themselves, but of course it is a mark of her artfulness that we have the impression that the story tells itself.

a NEW author worth reading.
Maggie Estep's talent is in telling stories in a twisiting, gyrating manner, with all the grace of a great dancer. Her prose is undistractingly clear, but has all the wild movement and intensity of Kerouac's spontaneous prose, with all the fluidity and flair of Joyce's stream of conciousness.

The nice thing about the book is that many of the constructions and catchphrases are also used in her songs. The sentences push ahead with a poetic rythm, enforced by her nasal, yet surprisingly sharp voice, almost singing in my head. It's no surprise this book is the work of a poet...

Maggie's Best
I simply love her stuff...I had the pleasure of stumbling into a copy of "Diary of An Emotional Idiot" in a discounted bin at my local bookseller. I am the sort of reader who is usually reading three to four books at a time, but Ms. Estep's writing forced to me to abandon all other reading material, and each chapter was more absorbing than the last. I own her CDs and "Soft Maniacs", her sophmore effort, but for my buck, her first try out with "Idiot" is her finest. Sure, you'll laugh, you'll cry, you may feel a little violated, but you will not be disappointed. Unforunately, I lent out my copy in a moment of hysterical generousity, only to later discover this title was out of print. I never saw that copy again, and had much difficulty finding any bookseller who did. I finally found a copy at auction, and was very relieved to have it nestled happily with the rest of my books....Of course, with the bite that "Idiot" has, it may it need its own shelf. Highly Recommend.