I haven't genuinely cringed whilst reading a book in a long time, but boy, did this book make me! Absolutely stuffed full of pretentious hot air and "artsy" superficial nonsense, all taking itself so seriously! Tao Lin seems to think that throwing in a few obscure words and bouncing from one ridiculous scenario to the next will mask that this book has absolutely no substance. This book personifies the vacuous so called "art culture" on my generation. But hey, this is only my opinion; I'll give you a direct quote from the book, opened at any random page, and let you make up your own minds!
"All of life seemed just to be one thing-one slap-dash'ed, stuffed turkey of a thing, flying out of the oven and into the night, into orbit; something once familiar and under control, but now just out there, unknown, by itself, charred and brainless and rarely glimpsed"
So deep, Tao Lin, so very deep.
And yes, a sentence of that length is entirely typical within this book, which made wading through the bull that little bit harder.
I'm truly sorry that some of my money is now in his hands. Don't make the same mistake.