"Zipper Mouth" is a wild ride of a book. Any number of times I wanted to read the overly long and complex sentences and the screwy paragraphs out loud to my friends. It veers from crazy episode to crazier event, and then manages to summarize itself before it zips off to another tangent. Weeks writes about drugs (some really dangerous drugs, maybe too many drugs, definitely too much speed), love, alcohol, outrageous nights out, movies, recovery, sleepless nights, buying a bagel, new girlfriends, stupid jobs, psychotic breaks, Sylvia Plath, girlfriend crushes, manic days, re-establishing yourself, and doing the laundry.
Near the end, Weeks mentions her break with linear time and the novel becomes clearer - if you haven't figured it out by then. Serious questions of identity are resolved and then lost again. Weeks is a poet and writes like she's on fire. It's often more poetry than novel, but - damn - it's hard to put down and, even though it's ultimately not completely satisfying, it's a thrilling trip to some remote place in NYC you've never been and then almost all the way back.