The wunderkind white male novelist stories where everyone lives in great apartments in Brooklyn or in Paris or somewhere else super literary and Important with a capital I. No one seems worried about money and everyone loves adjectives and long, distracting sentences full of wordplay and Cleverness, capitalized too, like Importance.
I’m only twenty-five pages in, and I purposefully read zero reviews when there was a slew of them last month, so I’m going to form my own opinion, and most books grow on me the further I get in. So I’ll persevere (especially since I got an ARC and I should finish and tell goodreads my opinion).
Maybe I’ll take a pencil to the margins of the book and edit it the way I would like to make this whole experience more palatable.