by Martin Page
I am not sure why this book is a “cult favorite.” Yes, it is mildly funny. But the target of its humor – modern life in all of its absurdities and shallowness – is a bit too obvious by now, and has been done to death; this book doesn’t add much verve to the backlash. The story’s saving grace is that it was quirky and short enough not to grate on my patience.
Does anyone else get the feeling that the author was hoping to get his book picked up by Hollywood with the inconsistent, tacked-on, falsely upbeat last chapter? Or are we supposed to interpret it as a meta-symptom of our shallow culture?
No comments:
Post a Comment