Transitioning from subterranean to terrestrial life is always tricky. There’s that moment of disorientation, of not knowing where you are and, oddly, who you are, either: respectable terrestrial being or sketchy denizen of the underworld? Strangers look at you, or so you imagine, sizing you up, unsure whether you belong here, in the light.
Padding thinks it's insightful. This isn't even true. I've never felt this way, and I'm guessing I could interview everyone I know who's ever taken a subway and ask if they feel this way after resurfacing and get nothing but confused looks in return.
Point being: this is more precious, pseudo-intellectual fluff that continues to make this book feel like it was written for teenagers.
