This is a novel that feels like it owes a lot to Don Delillo and J.G. Ballard, and is a kind of more sardonic George Saunders. And it also feels like a novel that I would have loved or at least loved the idea of in my early 20s. I still liked it, but over the course of the novel, the conceit and the execution drifted farther and farther apart for me and by the end I was very much ready for it to be […]