I love the Mezzanine

[Jrobertus]

I have read this book twice, and for me that says it all. The entire story takes place in the mind of the protagonist as he rides the escalator to the mezzanine. Sound exciting? You bet. This book is like the literary equivalent of a Canaletto painting. He sees all the details of how a human mind works. It is not only interesting, but comforting to see you are a member of this group of humans.

[Tom]

When I read the part about admiring the tiny domes of dust that the concavities on the bottom of that one type of shoe make on the ground of the playground, I gave the book a hug. First time I ever hugged a book. Only time, actually...

[Jeremy]

This book got sluggish in places and a good amount of time is spent talking about objects that a young'un like me cannot relate to (record players for example) but these trivial quibbles of mine in no way dampen my affection for this book. I see myself so clearly in the protagonist. He has all my habits, and thinks about all those weird private things that I think about to myself but I thought that no one else would ever bother to ponder. How wrong I was!

[Kathryn]

Love, love, love this book. I didn't hug it, but I can see why a reader might.

[Henry]

It has been a while, and I read most of Baker's other books, but if I remember correctly, he perfectly described the lithographed image (with the dots) in side a coffee vending machine we had at work. I remember of making a copy of the page (so I wouldn't be standing holding a book in front of the machine) and reading the description and looking at the image. It amused the hell out of me.

His flying off with footnotes that could last for pages were a unique trait. This book was phenomenal, but I found few other people who shared my love for this book. Probably helps if you are a little weird. I remember of laughing, knowingly, at his observations, it was like reading a transcript of my very odd mind.

[Melissa]

It takes a certain mindset to enjoy this book and I LOVED it! I haven't found its equivalent since. Beyond the obvious delight one takes in diving into Baker's incredibily detailed minutia, the book is a statement on the binality of the 80s. Baker creates a soul-less character whose focus is on insignificant items. The characters inability to see anything but the trivial speaks volumes on the state of the me-genernation who were incapable of even knowing who "me" is/was.

This book and American Psycho are my peaks into the soul, or lack thereof, of 80's corporate climbing self centered cocaine consuming lost generation.

Brilliant!