Spurious

I was ready not to understand any of this and to be bored but feel obliged to finish it, but no! It was fun actually. The tone was well balanced, managing the paradoxes that W. and Lars puzzle over – simultaneously hopeless and hopeful, feeling that your life is the worst but knowing that yours is so much better than others, being happy and miserable at the same time. The damp apartment was one of my favourite parts (in spite of being super gross), and it was better executed than I was expecting. I was relieved when Lars started including his own speech about halfway through the book, because I had started to wonder whether the narrator actually existed and if it was just W. writing about himself as someone else. (Still not entirely outside the realm of possibility.) I will definitely be moving on to Iyer‰ЫЄs follow-ups.

I read this book when I was ‰Ычwriting‰ЫЄ (i.e. not writing and instead thinking too much about) a piece that shared some traits with this book, and instead of feeling like throwing in the towel, I was actually educated and inspired, and – GUESS WHAT – I actually started writing almost as soon as I finished reading this. Amazing, right?

I totally concur with those who liken this to Withnail and I and Samuel Beckett, but it‰ЫЄs not as depressing at this makes it sound.