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They live where everyone else does: in a world of depression, mass death, and ecological ruin.
These accounts are chipperly respectable and pretty boring.
And while desire can be these things, it can also be selfish, weird, and grotesque.
She takes pride in being unrelatable and struggles to respond normally to pleasantries like How are you?
But all Id needed was to begin with the singularity of his neck.
Their intrusive, hyperactive questioning feels comically true to real life:How do you like your eggs?
May I bear your children?…
I wish I were a horrible event so that youd hear about me.
Hey, why dont you like Dostoevsky?
Y/Nis more freakish and hallucinatory than your average satire.
The narrators boyfriend, an academic named Masterson, is primarily distinguished as beinglong.
Only absurd and arbitrary leaps of plots.
From there, the division between what transpires in real life and her Y/N yarns becomes increasingly slippery.
On a whim, she decides to go to Seoul to find Moon.
(Did she quit her job?
How can she afford the trip?
The book never answers.)
The book repeatedly returns to objects of ungraspable enormity.
The prospect of this image of what it might reveal suddenly frightened me, the narrator observes.
