Justin Abdilla

DNF 90 pages. The author is comically bigoted against religious people and the American south. The book is the worst sort of New York drivel. It’s a navel gazing epistolary told in narrative format attempting anxiously to be somewhere between House of Leaves and If On A Winter’s Night a Traveller. It is instead somewhere between a poorly written Cornel Ësti and a less underwritten The Goldfinch. There are 100 different books better worth your $28 than this junk. In a similar genre of modern day literary critical fiction, I’d recommend Blackouts, The Rabbit Hutch, FKA USA or any of the books in earlier comparison. It’s not just that it’s bigoted, the book is trying to make kulturkampf proclamations as its best written and most memorable lines, and they are all so tired. “Revolutions do not follow precedents nor furnish them… I do not want pity I transfer to others the hate in my humiliated heart.” Oh brother. What a $17.99 Che Guevara t shirt does to a mf.