Paul Kwiatkowski’s new gritty and dark coming-of-age novel evokes a rave gone wrong in the '90s. And Every Day was Overcast (Black Balloon Publishing, 2013) succeeds in portraying teenage toxicity in South Florida in the worst yet most vibrant way.
The volatile narrative is carefully nestled between ugly-beautiful scrapbook photos that seamlessly construct a unique type of visual storytelling.
It recalls a more shockingly raw and substantial version of the movie Spring Breakers. The narrator’s insatiable need for love or merely a meaningful connection is enhanced by the alchemy of the pictures. One choice line: "The soft throb of trance music leaked from beneath Nicole's door, I stopped short of knocking to allow her intoxicating, feminine scent to settle into my lungs."
And Every Day was Overcast effectively brings out vulnerability warped by drugs and misfortunes — from depersonalizing LSD trips to dealing with the devastating reality of AIDS, this delinquent memoir has it all.
