The prose is as uncomfortable as what it describes. And what it describes is people (one person, in particular) uncomfortable in life, uncomfortable about doing anything to improve that discomfort. Sometimes it leads to awkward interactions, sometimes to petty crime.
Despite being identified as 27 years old, there is an immaturity about main character Curtis that makes the book feel like a young adult novel at times. His estimations of ‘evil’, ‘neutral’, ‘moral good’, etc are simplistic or, in some cases, twisted in on themselves.
More bothersome, though, is that the awkwardness of the prose makes it difficult to empathize with either Rook or those with whom he interacts. All seem vaguely broken, but only one (Carmen) for any reason that’s communicated clearly.
Even the internal dialogue or letter/journal passages, which would typically be provided by an author to build sympathy for a character, fail to do anything but make Curtis seem less comprehensible.
One of the blurbs describes this book as surreal. Instead it feels undercooked, in need of editorial input, with ‘surreal’ acting as a shield.