Faux Real

The newest literary media darling has found its way into my hands, and I can’t wrench myself from it. Then We Came to the End has been reviewed endlessly over the last week, and for whatever reason it compelled me. Let’s call it timeliness. I went to the local book shop on Sunday afternoon, realized I had to buy a hardback, and skulked to the counter to buy it when, lo! they had a free advance copy that came home with me instead. People who aren’t fabulous enough to get free advance copies can read the first chapter here.

It even has it’s own movie:

Just so you know, I can’t review a book for shit. Even as an ex-English major who wrote endless reams of criticism on everything from Shakespeare to Cinderella to Richard Rodriguez, I read a book and my final thoughts are whether or not I liked it. I can’t get into elitist fights about whether or not something ought to be read for one’s intellect’s sake, or whether or not Stephen King and Michael Crichton are worth your time, because I’m more concerned whether or not anyone is reading anything in the first place.

That said, I liked this book. I really liked this book, and I recommend it to any poor soul that has found herself lost in a maze of grey carpeted cubicles wondering whether or not she would have her job tomorrow. Or any poor soul who has to work, or hates work, or is endlessly amazed with the banal dramas of contemporary office spaces. And for those who seek out literary and pop culture trends like I seem to do, think The Corrections meets The Office, get as compelled as I was, read it in two days, and then come back over here to chat with me about how awesome it is. No lit crit necessary.