This is an almost incomprehensibly shite start to a book. At risk of yet another fraudulent Man Booker / NYT Top 100 of 21st-c, holy hell. Stop trying to be James Joyce. This is one of those heinous mutants that arises when formal experimentalism meets the filter of a major US publisher like Random House and you end up with unreadable slop. Fade me.
— Aug 18, 2025 12:59PM
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