Status Updates From The Paradise of Bombs

Maybe it's not fair to read this right after Flannery O'Connor, but the imagery is as pointless as the stories. Unimportant things are described in great detail, and I get the impression this is just because the author thought he had a cool series of words.

So far, I'm unimpressed. The essays have no point and are pretty self-congratulatory. He has a whole essay describing his sense of false humility at being a bumpkin. Essentially "sorry, I don't know how to BUY all of these things--I only know how to make or fix them! Unlike those cultured cityfolk, amiright?"