Ellroy still has the questions. I’m just no longer convinced he cares about the answers.
Ellroy still has the questions. I’m just no longer convinced he cares about the answers.
Train Dreams argues, without ever raising its voice, that the fastest way to feel real might be to stop checking whether you matter.
This isn’t a book you finish so much as one that finishes with you and whatever’s left unresolved afterward is the point.
I don’t listen to You Are Safe From God Here to feel better, I listen to it because it understands why I don’t.
Vermis doesn’t insist on meaning. It creates the conditions for it, then steps aside.
Die My Love exists in that awkward half-space between looking good and actually being good.
I dare you to find anything in your life that you love with even half the obsessive, granular devotion Warren Zanes brings to Nebraska.
It’s fun. It’s exhausting. And if that contradiction bothers you, congratulations: you’ve finally understood tech death.
