Richard Brautigan (1935–1984) is perhaps the last of the modern American classics who remains unknown to the Russian reader. His work is distinguished by gentle humor, logic turned inside out, and poetically filigree work with words. So, what does “watermelon sugar” have to do with it? Let's put it this way: Brautigan's text will “sound” only if the reader accepts metaphor as a method, and not as an auxiliary artistic means. The hero of "Watermelon Sugar" is constantly in some kind of altered state of consciousness. Everything seems “wrong” to him, but not like a beatnik terribly killed by drugs, but somehow kindly, blissfully serene, in general, hippie-like. The reader is bombarded with a stream of consciousness, a string of thoughts, reasoning, understatements, descriptions and strange hints. Let's get stuck, get stuck in the watermelon sugar of the text... This sticky syrup of life seems to be stretched out in time a little more than necessary. For example, one of the best scenes of the book is the hero’s undressing of a girl named Vaida - a process that stretches over several chapters: “It’s not an easy decision - to start from the top or the bottom of the girl...” All the time you can’t shake the feeling that the hero is simply stoned to hell: “ Before taking off her panties, I looked at her face... It was calm, and although blue lightning still flashed in her eyes, the look around the edges remained soft and tender, and these edges became wider and wider. panties. The job is done. Vaida is naked, right in front of me. “See?” she said. “It’s not me...” The door will be opened for you by someone who is not at all the same - according to Brautigan, everyone is wallowing in watermelon sugar.