This is the story of a boy, a girl, a phone, a cat, the end of the universe, and the terrible power of ennui. Jacob is sure he used to be more upset about waking up covered in his own vomit. He's not sure what changed, but he is sure getting high should be doing more good than it seems to be. At least it still irons out some of the arguments between parts of his head. Rose just wants Jacob to get out of her apartment, but is distracted by her restaurant burning down and the fact that she suddenly can't stop talking. In fact, many things have started talking a lot, and most of them shouldn't be talking at all. Between the increasingly strange conversations and a number of curiously punitive coincidences, nobody notices that some of the more important bits of reality are unravelling until it's way too late. "Dude, I loved it, but I think people like you are only appreciated after they're dead." - Guy at a Bar "I don't get what's up with the letters." - Author's Editor "I'm about 20 percent in, am I supposed to understand what's going on yet?" - Author's Coworker "A raucous, mind-bending, laugh-out-loud adventure from a rising literary star." - Definitely a Legitimate Review from a Super Famous Magazine
Peter Hunt Welch has somehow managed to pit some loveable characters into a nicely suspenceful plot line, whilst simultaneously writing one of the most deeply complicated philosophy books that you will ever read.
On more than one occasion, I really had to talk myself into being in the mood for persevering with such dense dogma: complicated doesn't begin to describe the majority of this book -and I can only think of that Pepe Silvia meme when I try and imagine the author at the time of writing it.
At other moments, the novel has some sheerly brilliant writing - and a few turns of phrase that are up there with the great writers of any era. The sections describing the highschool versions of the main character is astoundingly beautiful.
The main characters are cute and fantastically relatable, and even carry a certain pratchett-esque simplicity about them at certain spots. If you can get past the morbid obesity of the philosophical musings, then I think(?) that the book is actually formulated on a clever and well-thought out - even logical - theoretical premise. Most of this novel is ridiculuous but the author gets away with it, and the ridiculousness is indeed strong with this one.
At least once, I very nearly put the book permanently down, as it's easy to get lost in noise. For me it didn't resonate as much as Peter's first two books (especially the 2nd one, which was beautifully poignant), however the author's dry wit and sardonic sense of humor manages to float atop this sea of existentialism. If anyone else had written this book then it would be a complete failure, but it is saved by occasional snippets of pure magic in the form of written prose. If you can handle heavy mental weightlifting then you should definitely read this.
As if Douglas Adams spent more time in a philosophy department of a mid level junior college, and hung out with all the stoner burn out kids; and then set to writing a gritty reboot of Long Dark Teatime...
I enjoyed this, at times because of the author, and at times despite.
Feels like it was rehashing a lot of his psychosis's (see his other book) but in a more lighthearted way.
There's a seriously good writer's seed here, and I'll keep reading things he writes because I'm excited to see what he blooms into. And still, it feels like an early work, a touch uneven.
witty, the magical realism is great, Steve is a brilliant character and his conversations with Jacob and the cats were the highlight of the book for me.