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Title: A Great Symptom of an Empty Set, A terrible Novel
Review: 208 pages of aimless drivel. About 3 over worked metaphors that stick through a vapid juvenile vocabulary like the ribs of a starved street dog. The endless redundancy of a spoiled teenage journal: infinite self indulgence, vanity, and apathy. No description, no plot, no knowledge, and no feeling. Undoubtedly, the author will say "That's the point." And indeed for sick and fatuous stupidity, this book is the top of the heap. If you want to feel like you spend an evening with people who are forgetful, careless, and empty, this is your best choice.
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