I don’t know what to even think of this book.
On one hand, I read it quickly and didn’t seem to enjoy it much while I was reading. But on the other hand, I can’t stop thinking about it so it must have had some effect on me, even if I can’t quite define what that effect is.
Weetzie Bat is a girl of an undefined age (but I’m thinking seventeen or eighteen) who befriends Dirk. They are inseparable best friends and they spend their days hooking up with various guys who they call ducks.
Dirk’s grandma loves Weetzie and gives her an old lamp, out of which a genie pops and gives Weetzie three wishes. She wishes for guys for herself and Dirk and for a house for them to all live in. Then Grandma Fifi dies and leaves her house to Dirk and Weetzie. They live there, and Dirk falls in love with Duck (see, because Weetzie asked for a Duck for Dirk.)
Eventually a filmmaker called My Secret Agent Lover Man (named for the same reason as Duck) falls in love with Weetzie and they four of them live together.
Then Weetzie wants a baby, but My Secret Agent Lover Man doesn’t. So Weetzie sleeps with Dirk and Duck (and of course with My Secret Agent Lover Man) and becomes pregnant and they all raise the baby together. They have a girl, who is named Cherokee Bat.
My Secret Agent Lover Man is unhappy with the situation and leaves Weetzie, but he eventually comes back. Several months later, a baby is left on their doorstep, the product of a fling My Secret Agent Lover Man had while he was gone. They decide to raise this girl as a sister for Cherokee. They want to call her Lily, but she ends up being called Witch-Baby, because her mom was a witch.
Also, Weetzie’s dad Charlie Bat dies, and one of Duck’s friends dies of AIDS, but they never mention the word AIDS which is weird.
I don’t know. I really don’t. The book is short and it took me about an hour to read the whole thing. The language is super simple and there is little in the way of emotional development or descriptors. And it’s really weirdly hipster-y and we’re supposed to love that Weetzie wears Native American headdresses (ugh) and they call their car Jerry and the dog Slinkster.
But….but. I don’t know. I keep thinking about it. And maybe even though there wasn’t a lot of emotional pull to the characters while reading it, something must have been there because I’m still hoping that Weetzie and Dirk and the gang are OK. (There are sequels, but I probably will never get around to reading them.)
Also, I’m drunk -posting right now.