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2000ft Above Worry Level
Everything is sad and funny and nothing is anything else2000ft Above Worry Level begins on the sad part of the internet and ends at the top of a cliff face. This episodic novel is piloted by a young, anhedonic, gentle, slightly disassociated man. He has no money. He has a supportive but disintegrating family. He is trying hard to be better. He is painting a never-ending fence.Eamonn Marra's debut novel occupies the precarious spaces in which many twenty-somethings find themselves, forced as they are to live in the present moment as late capitalism presses in from all sides. Mortifying subjects – loserdom, depression, unemployment, cam sex – are surveyed with dignity and stoicism. Beneath Marra's precise, unemotive language and his character's steadfast grip on the surface of things, something is stirring.
193 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 1, 2021
5 people are currently reading
308 people want to read
About the author
Eamonn Marra
3 books48 followersEamonn Marra is a writer and comedian. He was born and raised in Christchurch and now lives in Wellington. He has a masters degree from the International Institute of Modern Letters. Eamonn’s shows include Man on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (2014), Respite (2014/2015), I, Will Jones (2016–18), and Dignity (2018). His first book 2000ft Above Worry Level was released in February 2020 through Victoria University Press.
Photograph by Ebony Lamb
Photograph by Ebony Lamb
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 49 reviews
February 16, 2020
I sat down to read a chapter or two, then just didn't stop until I'd finished the whole thing.
May 28, 2021
I wanted to love this collection more than I did as it is sad and intelligent writing. My favourite stories were in Part 2 with the title story 2000ft Above Worry Level being the stand out.
March 3, 2020
I have been waiting for this collection since Eamonn first told me he was writing short stories and then going to do an MA at IIML. Eamonn's sense of humor as a comedian pared with his generous capacity to remember past events lends itself so well to the story format; and here, a series of 1st person POV stories centered on a single narrator develops seamlessly into the novel in stories advertised. And I do still think of them as stories, but I can recognise an overarching theme and sensibility in them that brings them closer together on the page than one would expect from an average short story collection. Much like Shirley Jackson in The Lottery, Eamonn has built a world for his characters to reside in, and it is recognisable and familiar to the reader even when the characters are not. Standout recurring characters such as brother Toby and his ex-girlfriend (primarily referred to as such) thread through as well. Interpersonal relationships are strong, and this whole collection feels personal because it is – this is Eamonn, more or less. And it works because his writing is clear and direct, and not just a copy of the disjointed style of previous young storytellers who have used a thin veil of fiction to write their own memoir, such as Tao Lin and his contemporaries. While precise, Eamonn's prose is not clipped; emotion is visible on the page, and translates easily to the reader. This book would sit well alongside Rose Lu's personal essay collection, All Who Live on Islands, and Jenny Zhang's story collection, Sour Heart. These books can get messy, and by doing so, they get to the centre of things.
February 16, 2020
Beautiful and raw and bleak and funny.
June 18, 2020
So raw and intelligent . I loved it - Eamon please keep writing and producing art . You show a side of human life that people normally have a lot of fear around sharing , this is unapologetically candid
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November 15, 2020I really enjoyed reading this book -it was a creative mix of depressing/funny/hopeful. It makes me want to have a shower and moisturise my face.
June 10, 2021
Eamonn Marra is a writer and comedian. 2000ft Above Worry Level is his first novel, a scattering of humorous stories chronicling the travails of a depressed young man. He is without direction, bumbling through childhood, university, and a succession of precarious flats and jobs. We glimpse little snippets of his life, often without context; in one story, he has a girlfriend, by the next, she’s an ex. His overall trajectory is not up or down, but around and around: clear cycles of failure and self-loathing, followed by the narrator’s attempts to get back into the rhythm of getting on with it.
Most of the narrator’s troubles are exacerbated by his impulsive and impressionable nature. He is eager to make the world a better place and himself a better person. In Wart, after reading an article about “how people who read fiction are more empathetic than people who don’t” (33), he switches his major to English literature. He walks everywhere to avoid using fossil fuels (but winds up getting rides with other people). He explores veganism, but often breaks this to eat gelatinous pick-and-mix lollies when he is having a bad day. His friend in his philosophy class accosts him for this. “To him this was an unbelievable flaw in logic… It didn’t matter that I didn’t eat meat and that he did; all he cared about was logical consistency.” (35) By the final story Jobs, he is a regular at a vegan potluck meet-up, but is starting to hit the gym and put on some muscle mass and accepts eating meat as part of this. Only after accepting his limitations - his relative powerlessness - might he begin to move with ease in the world.
Most of his attempts at self-improvement are failures though. Among the things he adds to his routine are walking up a hill everyday (in order to lose weight) or reading a certain number of classical books (to become educated). Some of these goals he sets - no matter how insignificant - give him a sense of purpose he is otherwise lacking. In Home, after being kicked out of his flat, fired from his job, and moving back in with his mother, he starts painting a fence with the (unwanted) advice of his elderly neighbour. He memorises the information on the signs at a local lookout, which he repeats back to others climbing up to the lookout, like a kind of tour guide. By clinging to these little self-driven attempts, he is able to slowly rebuild his life.
The narrator’s impulsions often get the best of him, and Marra depicts this with a lot of humour - though he is careful that we are not laughing at the narrator, but with him, recognising that even the most humiliating situations can be funny. In Three Pizzas the narrator decides to buy pizzas for his flatmates, but struggles not to eat them before they get home. He ends up eating all but four slices of one flatmate’s pizza, then uses this as justification to eat all but four slices of the other flatmate’s pizza. When the flatmates finally arrive home, they don’t care that the pizzas are half-eaten, they’re just happy to be getting any free pizza; the narrator was overthinking it. In The Wart, he obsessively picks and bites at a wart on his hand. During a lecture he begins to cut into it with a compass, only to realise that everyone is staring at him; blood gushes everywhere as he runs out the door.
In Dog Farm, Food Game, the narrator recounts an online relationship with a girl called Abby. They align their schedules so they can spend each waking minute chatting to each other. They have camsex - “wow” is what the narrator types whenever Abby reveals herself to him. Often he is too awkward to actually suggest camsex, so he tries to initiate it by positioning his erection so Abby can see it. This not only shows his timidity, but is a kind of pornographic wish-fulfillment, a form of roleplaying.
Because you are better able to control (more than in real life) what you reveal of yourself to other people, it is difficult to fully trust someone you know primarily through the internet. It is also hard to establish long-lasting bonds. But this is also what allows the narrator the kind of distance necessary for him to feel comfortable expressing himself - a prerequisite for any kind of friendship or relationship.
This double play threatens to undermine their relationship though; how much of the narrator’s feelings are based on a connection with the real Abby, and how much is based on the idea of Abby? What is love and what is just roleplaying? We are given reason to doubt what Abby tells us when she admits to lying about kissing lots of boys at parties when she was fourteen. What else is she lying about? Who we are in real life is not always who we would like to be. Acknowledging that is the beginning of the narrator’s attempts at self-improvement.
The narrator has sacrificed everything to keep up his virtual relationship with Abby. He’s stopped going to university. He hasn’t seen his flatmates in weeks. While he has developed real feelings for her, hers never seem to rise above roleplaying. With the new semester starting up, she returns to her real life and stops coming online. She stops responding to his messages. The narrator does his best to track her various online presences (including checking the view counter of a private video he only shared with her), but is slowly cut off from her. Once again, he is alone.
This collection peaks with Syndrome. It’s a very hot day and the narrator is struggling to even think straight:
He has serotonin syndrome, brought on by a double dose of antidepressants. The heat and confusion of serotonin syndrome is conveyed well by the uncertainty of what exactly is happening in the story’s opening: is the narrator sick or is it just hot? And it’s unclear whether the narrator took the double dose intentionally; at first he thinks it was accidental, but everyone keeps asking if it was a suicide attempt, to the point where he begins to doubt himself, and isn’t so sure anymore. He lies in bed trying to arrange a laptop that he needs to pick up. He sends a pathetic selfie of himself to his ex to get her sympathy; she calls him out on it. The story ends with him going to sleep on his final night in hospital, crying to a Kanye West music video.
While the final story Jobs suggests the narrator might be sticking to more permanent, healthy routines, there’s nothing to suggest his vegan potlucks and hiking and gymgoing might be just another walking up the hill or painting the fence. There’s little to suggest the narrator himself has changed, rather than merely performing a different set of routines. Other characters, through whom we might see his changes reflected, don’t stick around long enough to leave such an impression
As a novel the story is largely without direction or completion. For that reason I think it’s more rewarding to treat this book as a collection of short stories which happen to share the same character. Indeed, most of the significant events - like the break-up with the girlfriend, and being kicked out of his flat and losing his job - happen off-screen. Those challenges of life in which the narrator might finally prove his mettle go unseen. What we’re left with are those little moments after the failure, in which someone who claws even deeper into his depression and neuroses has to find a way to navigate through - no matter what.
Read this review on Substack.
Most of the narrator’s troubles are exacerbated by his impulsive and impressionable nature. He is eager to make the world a better place and himself a better person. In Wart, after reading an article about “how people who read fiction are more empathetic than people who don’t” (33), he switches his major to English literature. He walks everywhere to avoid using fossil fuels (but winds up getting rides with other people). He explores veganism, but often breaks this to eat gelatinous pick-and-mix lollies when he is having a bad day. His friend in his philosophy class accosts him for this. “To him this was an unbelievable flaw in logic… It didn’t matter that I didn’t eat meat and that he did; all he cared about was logical consistency.” (35) By the final story Jobs, he is a regular at a vegan potluck meet-up, but is starting to hit the gym and put on some muscle mass and accepts eating meat as part of this. Only after accepting his limitations - his relative powerlessness - might he begin to move with ease in the world.
Most of his attempts at self-improvement are failures though. Among the things he adds to his routine are walking up a hill everyday (in order to lose weight) or reading a certain number of classical books (to become educated). Some of these goals he sets - no matter how insignificant - give him a sense of purpose he is otherwise lacking. In Home, after being kicked out of his flat, fired from his job, and moving back in with his mother, he starts painting a fence with the (unwanted) advice of his elderly neighbour. He memorises the information on the signs at a local lookout, which he repeats back to others climbing up to the lookout, like a kind of tour guide. By clinging to these little self-driven attempts, he is able to slowly rebuild his life.
The narrator’s impulsions often get the best of him, and Marra depicts this with a lot of humour - though he is careful that we are not laughing at the narrator, but with him, recognising that even the most humiliating situations can be funny. In Three Pizzas the narrator decides to buy pizzas for his flatmates, but struggles not to eat them before they get home. He ends up eating all but four slices of one flatmate’s pizza, then uses this as justification to eat all but four slices of the other flatmate’s pizza. When the flatmates finally arrive home, they don’t care that the pizzas are half-eaten, they’re just happy to be getting any free pizza; the narrator was overthinking it. In The Wart, he obsessively picks and bites at a wart on his hand. During a lecture he begins to cut into it with a compass, only to realise that everyone is staring at him; blood gushes everywhere as he runs out the door.
In Dog Farm, Food Game, the narrator recounts an online relationship with a girl called Abby. They align their schedules so they can spend each waking minute chatting to each other. They have camsex - “wow” is what the narrator types whenever Abby reveals herself to him. Often he is too awkward to actually suggest camsex, so he tries to initiate it by positioning his erection so Abby can see it. This not only shows his timidity, but is a kind of pornographic wish-fulfillment, a form of roleplaying.
Because you are better able to control (more than in real life) what you reveal of yourself to other people, it is difficult to fully trust someone you know primarily through the internet. It is also hard to establish long-lasting bonds. But this is also what allows the narrator the kind of distance necessary for him to feel comfortable expressing himself - a prerequisite for any kind of friendship or relationship.
This double play threatens to undermine their relationship though; how much of the narrator’s feelings are based on a connection with the real Abby, and how much is based on the idea of Abby? What is love and what is just roleplaying? We are given reason to doubt what Abby tells us when she admits to lying about kissing lots of boys at parties when she was fourteen. What else is she lying about? Who we are in real life is not always who we would like to be. Acknowledging that is the beginning of the narrator’s attempts at self-improvement.
The narrator has sacrificed everything to keep up his virtual relationship with Abby. He’s stopped going to university. He hasn’t seen his flatmates in weeks. While he has developed real feelings for her, hers never seem to rise above roleplaying. With the new semester starting up, she returns to her real life and stops coming online. She stops responding to his messages. The narrator does his best to track her various online presences (including checking the view counter of a private video he only shared with her), but is slowly cut off from her. Once again, he is alone.
This collection peaks with Syndrome. It’s a very hot day and the narrator is struggling to even think straight:
The air inside the library is even thicker than outside… All the computers are being used so I write by hand, which is useless, because my handwriting is illegible and I’m writing trash. (153).
He has serotonin syndrome, brought on by a double dose of antidepressants. The heat and confusion of serotonin syndrome is conveyed well by the uncertainty of what exactly is happening in the story’s opening: is the narrator sick or is it just hot? And it’s unclear whether the narrator took the double dose intentionally; at first he thinks it was accidental, but everyone keeps asking if it was a suicide attempt, to the point where he begins to doubt himself, and isn’t so sure anymore. He lies in bed trying to arrange a laptop that he needs to pick up. He sends a pathetic selfie of himself to his ex to get her sympathy; she calls him out on it. The story ends with him going to sleep on his final night in hospital, crying to a Kanye West music video.
While the final story Jobs suggests the narrator might be sticking to more permanent, healthy routines, there’s nothing to suggest his vegan potlucks and hiking and gymgoing might be just another walking up the hill or painting the fence. There’s little to suggest the narrator himself has changed, rather than merely performing a different set of routines. Other characters, through whom we might see his changes reflected, don’t stick around long enough to leave such an impression
As a novel the story is largely without direction or completion. For that reason I think it’s more rewarding to treat this book as a collection of short stories which happen to share the same character. Indeed, most of the significant events - like the break-up with the girlfriend, and being kicked out of his flat and losing his job - happen off-screen. Those challenges of life in which the narrator might finally prove his mettle go unseen. What we’re left with are those little moments after the failure, in which someone who claws even deeper into his depression and neuroses has to find a way to navigate through - no matter what.
Read this review on Substack.
February 26, 2024
probably fair to say this is now one of my favourite pieces of nz lit, if not lit full stop. this is the third (?) time i have read this and this time i was much more on board with it as a novel, rather than a series of short stories tied together and marketed as a novel. the first part of this book is, i reckon, flawless. cutting, discomforting, addictive prose from marra that captures so well the precariousness of being a young person fresh out of the tertiary system. the second part lost me for a moment by lingering a little longer than i'd like in childhood stories, but i think these laid good and necessary groundwork for the characterisation of the protag's family members, paying off in the chapters to follow. there's some gross stuff, w ref to body but not in a problematic way, just in im a little uncomfortable right now way. overall, idk, marra's voice is so compelling and distinct in its detachedness, its easy to look past any minor misgivings. read nz lit :)
April 20, 2021
I loved this book so so so much. It’s so raw and relatable I couldn’t put it down. Eamonn’s stories are sad yet funny, they are intelligent and excellently told. As the kids say “I felt all the feels”.
I’m trying to read more local authors and it’s been pure joy! All the books by NZ/ Wellington based authors I’ve read have left me in awe of the sheer talent around me and I want more!
PS Thank you Steph for recommending ☺️
I’m trying to read more local authors and it’s been pure joy! All the books by NZ/ Wellington based authors I’ve read have left me in awe of the sheer talent around me and I want more!
PS Thank you Steph for recommending ☺️
May 23, 2020
This is Andy Griffiths’ Just Disgusting, Just Shocking and Just Crazy, rolled into one hilarious, terrifying abs super “wow, yes this definitely happened” book of stories. Well Done Eamonn
October 21, 2024
I picked this one up at the library the other day because it was on a display of local authors and I recognised the author's name as being someone who used to work for me at a cinema many, many moons ago.
And as soon as I read the first page I recognised the guy who came in to his job interview shaking and sweating and barely able to stutter out his name. You wouldn't have thought that would have given me a great first impression, but I saw something in Eamonn that I don't think he could see in himself at the time and I wanted to encourage that. So I hired him.
Since then, he's gone on to be a comedian and now an author.
Structured as a novel of sorts, the book is more a series of loosely related vignettes or short stories, some taking place in the present, and some harking back to the protagonist's childhood - one of my favourite chapters was about a childhood camping trip to a town dealing with a plague of wasps.
The main character is depressed, a little lost in the world, perpetually broke and probably a real worry to his long-suffering flatmates. Some of the stories about what he's going through are incredibly tragic, yet also incredibly funny. I guess those situations that you find embarassing at the time can be hilarious in retrospect, even if they are still tinged with a hint of shame.
I think what makes the protagonist here so endearing is that he is genuinely trying to be a better human. He's just not great at it, and he manages to somehow undermine every step he takes in the right direction. Some of this is circumstance, some of it is poor mental health and some of it is just the stupid stuff we do as we grow up, the stuff we (hopefully) learn from.
I'd definitely recommend this one. It's tragic and funny and will make you squirm in places, but it's also undeniably human.
And as soon as I read the first page I recognised the guy who came in to his job interview shaking and sweating and barely able to stutter out his name. You wouldn't have thought that would have given me a great first impression, but I saw something in Eamonn that I don't think he could see in himself at the time and I wanted to encourage that. So I hired him.
Since then, he's gone on to be a comedian and now an author.
Structured as a novel of sorts, the book is more a series of loosely related vignettes or short stories, some taking place in the present, and some harking back to the protagonist's childhood - one of my favourite chapters was about a childhood camping trip to a town dealing with a plague of wasps.
The main character is depressed, a little lost in the world, perpetually broke and probably a real worry to his long-suffering flatmates. Some of the stories about what he's going through are incredibly tragic, yet also incredibly funny. I guess those situations that you find embarassing at the time can be hilarious in retrospect, even if they are still tinged with a hint of shame.
I think what makes the protagonist here so endearing is that he is genuinely trying to be a better human. He's just not great at it, and he manages to somehow undermine every step he takes in the right direction. Some of this is circumstance, some of it is poor mental health and some of it is just the stupid stuff we do as we grow up, the stuff we (hopefully) learn from.
I'd definitely recommend this one. It's tragic and funny and will make you squirm in places, but it's also undeniably human.
May 2, 2020
Alarming how much I identified! I loved these refreshing contemporary stories. I didn't actually read them, I heard them read out loud by the author in a six hour long YouTube video - this coronavirus pandemic has its few good moments! He says it won't be up for long, so hurry up people.
Thank you mr. Marra.
Thank you mr. Marra.
February 23, 2020
Totally engrossed in this from page one. Really elegant and unpretentious writing that feels incredibly fresh and relevant. The stream of consciousness style is full of angst and humour, sweetened by a dose of typically New Zealand humility. I laughed out loud many times, but was wrought with anxiety as the Lord of the Flies (or wasps)-style chapter unfurled. The delicate dynamics between the narrator and his family, friends and love interests are achingly relatable. Particularly love the way the narrator’s mum is described and the general portrayal of the schisms between millennial and boomer outlooks - sometimes they feel heartbreakingly endearing, at other times truly exasperating. Read it in one day, highly recommend!
August 3, 2020
Deceptively brilliant. A triggering, visceral gut-punch of short-stories that band together into a novel. I felt seen. And heard. And I learned. And I loved it.
November 14, 2022
A quick read giving a slice of life of a twenty-something kiwi. Partly depressing, partly funny and definitely relatable at times.
April 17, 2020
Been in a bit of a reading slump, then I picked this up on meBooks because everything is closed. Read it in a day and only took a break for lunch. So damn good, and so damn funny at times. I don't think I've ever read something that so perfectly captures the experience of going on a family camping holiday in rural New Zealand. I'm not usually a visual reader, so I was blown away by Marra's ability to evoke such specific detail and build each scene in just a few sentences.
Recommended.
Recommended.
February 17, 2020
I love this book so much, I genuinely haven't been so engrossed in a book for ages. I loaned it to a friend and she read it in a day too. Would recommend to any 20-something I know, or anyone who's been 20-something or anybody that is going to be 20-something soon. Incredibly relatable, read it.
May 12, 2022
Excellent writing and excellent story telling. Marra has a refreshingly frank writing style that is very hard to put down.
July 28, 2022
Best book I’ve read all year. I laughed so hard I choked on a piece of sourdough and then was so repulsed by the rest of the loaf I threw it in the fire. Eamonn is so talented and I adored this book.
January 14, 2024
To clarify, if you're reading the reviews here and wondering if this is really a novel when so many reviews refer to it as a collection of short stories, yes it is a novel. For one thing, it self-identifies as a novel, and for another thing, a fundamental theme of its novelhood is the fragmenting of young people's time, resources and concentration by the gig economy and other aspects of horrible modern capitalism in Aotearoa New Zealand. The fragments you sense are not short stories; they are the constituent parts of a fragmentary novel by a narrator who frequently alludes to the lack of time to write, because life is getting in the way.
He's a prisoner of modern urban capitalism really, a twentysomething rat caught in the rat race, and that's what I think this compellingly funny-sad-shrewd book is about.
I almost gave this only four stars because of the fragmentation, which was at times frustrating - in one chapter he comes across as a reckless alcoholic spiralling towards the bottom but in the other chapters he never seems to struggle with addiction, so it seems out of character - but then I realised the episodism of the chapters is essential to understanding that uber-theme of scattered time and focus. It's quite meta, and young people love meta and they write about it very well.
Also I decided the fragmentary quality is somewhat reverie-like overall and then I decided I liked that, so I am giving the full five stars. Plus I liked the ending; for all its scatteredness it does have a nice, unforced, gentle resolution.
The best chapter is the title chapter in my opinion, 2000ft Above Worry Level, but I mostly think that because a.) Naseby is exactly like that in real life and the strong emphasis on raspberry fizzy in a New Zealand childhood is not overstated at all, and b.) I was camping in Central Otago when I read it and thoroughly identified with the tent-mending dad in the story.
He's a prisoner of modern urban capitalism really, a twentysomething rat caught in the rat race, and that's what I think this compellingly funny-sad-shrewd book is about.
I almost gave this only four stars because of the fragmentation, which was at times frustrating - in one chapter he comes across as a reckless alcoholic spiralling towards the bottom but in the other chapters he never seems to struggle with addiction, so it seems out of character - but then I realised the episodism of the chapters is essential to understanding that uber-theme of scattered time and focus. It's quite meta, and young people love meta and they write about it very well.
Also I decided the fragmentary quality is somewhat reverie-like overall and then I decided I liked that, so I am giving the full five stars. Plus I liked the ending; for all its scatteredness it does have a nice, unforced, gentle resolution.
The best chapter is the title chapter in my opinion, 2000ft Above Worry Level, but I mostly think that because a.) Naseby is exactly like that in real life and the strong emphasis on raspberry fizzy in a New Zealand childhood is not overstated at all, and b.) I was camping in Central Otago when I read it and thoroughly identified with the tent-mending dad in the story.
November 24, 2022
I was very impressed with this book, the realness, the struggles of this young man and how much I wanted to believe these feeling as well as the comic elements and moments of observation that cut through, what could otherwise have been, a very heavy book.
The short stories focus on one character and his psychological struggles and I feel it is very much a book that speaks to people in the 20-29 bracket (I am speaking for them as a mid 30s person) searching for a clear path, happiness, stability and a meaning to it all.
The delivery is almost devoid of emotion and this detachment actually allows for the author to find the funny sides of some of the situations, which really should not be funny. It errs on the line of "if you don't laugh you will cry" philosophy very well.
I smashed through this in a couple of days and it is a fast read and a short book, but for me that was a pretty good pace, I just kept wanting to pick it back up.
The short stories focus on one character and his psychological struggles and I feel it is very much a book that speaks to people in the 20-29 bracket (I am speaking for them as a mid 30s person) searching for a clear path, happiness, stability and a meaning to it all.
The delivery is almost devoid of emotion and this detachment actually allows for the author to find the funny sides of some of the situations, which really should not be funny. It errs on the line of "if you don't laugh you will cry" philosophy very well.
I smashed through this in a couple of days and it is a fast read and a short book, but for me that was a pretty good pace, I just kept wanting to pick it back up.
March 7, 2020
‘The sad part of the Internet is a special place that only sad people can access. It’s full of content made by sad people for sad people. Jokes that make sad people laugh, but would make not-sad people worried.’
And so begins this clever, darkly funny novel that I bought at 2pm and finished 12 hours later.
How I loved this book! It gave me full proper laugh-out-loud moments that were still shaking my shoulders as I drove to work the next day. But it’s not only funny—it’s thought-provoking and smart and the structure is playful and interesting, with its slippages in time and character. In one section, the character is unemployed; the next chapter, he’s a barista. We jump from WINZ battles and Internet sex, to a family camping in the midst of a wasp invasion. The writing is crisp, with Marra letting the dialogue and action reveal character; no weighty descriptive paragraphs or exposition. This effortless prose (which I know indicates a helluva lot of effort) results in an immense readability and explains why I just couldn’t put it down.
Ten billion stars for @eamonnmarra . Go grab this book from @vupbooks or your local independent book store.
And so begins this clever, darkly funny novel that I bought at 2pm and finished 12 hours later.
How I loved this book! It gave me full proper laugh-out-loud moments that were still shaking my shoulders as I drove to work the next day. But it’s not only funny—it’s thought-provoking and smart and the structure is playful and interesting, with its slippages in time and character. In one section, the character is unemployed; the next chapter, he’s a barista. We jump from WINZ battles and Internet sex, to a family camping in the midst of a wasp invasion. The writing is crisp, with Marra letting the dialogue and action reveal character; no weighty descriptive paragraphs or exposition. This effortless prose (which I know indicates a helluva lot of effort) results in an immense readability and explains why I just couldn’t put it down.
Ten billion stars for @eamonnmarra . Go grab this book from @vupbooks or your local independent book store.
October 16, 2020
My favourite book I’ve read all year. I started this last night and finished it by mid morning, it was that good.
Eamonn’s writing has a simplicity and flow that makes it so easy and engaging to read, and is grounded in such astute, specific observations that it feels very real. And, personally, it made me feel a close affinity for the narrator. When it finished I just wanted more.
Eamonn’s writing has a simplicity and flow that makes it so easy and engaging to read, and is grounded in such astute, specific observations that it feels very real. And, personally, it made me feel a close affinity for the narrator. When it finished I just wanted more.
April 25, 2022
I read the first chapter of this book last night and was like hmm… and then I read a review on here about how they read the first few chapters and then couldn’t put the book down. I did exactly that today and I haven’t binge read in over a decade. Such a good read!! So human and real. I loved it ⭐️ 4.5 :-)
July 30, 2025
This book is written in kiwi English and reminds me of people I know and sometimes myself at points. I got it for my birthday a few years ago and I only started getting stuck into it recently. Reminded me of the mates I made while camping as a kid, being depressed in uni and being bad at doing work around the house.
October 23, 2020
Bleak but engaging description of living with depression.
The sad chapters were offset by a delightful description of a family camping trip involving an economy based on children collecting dead wasps. I look forward to future writing from Eamonn Mara.
The sad chapters were offset by a delightful description of a family camping trip involving an economy based on children collecting dead wasps. I look forward to future writing from Eamonn Mara.
April 1, 2021
Funny and relatable. I especially loved the stories in part two with my all time favourite the one set at the Naseby camping ground. Such a brilliant depiction of sibling relationships and new friendships.
February 29, 2020
Hard to rate this as anything less than 5 big stars when I know the author :) Definite “Confederacy of Dunces” vibes but Eamonn is much more likeable.
March 1, 2020
i enjoyed reading this book and i also wonder of eamonn will see this review. if so... hello eamonn
March 29, 2020
It's not very often I get to the end of a book wishing it didn't have to end! Filled with the dark, deadpan humour that kiwi writers are loved for, it was the earnestness that really drew me in.
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