It’s pretty good. Reads better when you’re not in a bad mood, I find. The narrator really swings his dick though, exasperating the prose of any elegance or subtlety. It’s hard to appreciate a book written through the eyes of a narrator that you would walk to the other end of a bar to try and avoid. I’m told Richard Meltzer is like this in person but I love all his writing and can see myself basking in its company for long hours. Using this line of thinking, Junot and I would get on a treat.
Oh settle, Sybil.
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