"I hate the Fourth of July. The early middle age of summer. Everything is alive and kicking for now, but the eventual decline into fall has already set itself in motion. Some of the lesser shrubs and bushes, seared by the heat, are starting to resemble a bad peroxide job. The heat reaches a blazing peak, but summer is lying to itself, burning out like some alcoholic genius. And you start to wonder- what have I done with June?"
-from Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteyngart, an excellent, excellent book which I loved reading. (I don't normally read love stories. I'm not sure it's really a love story at all. It's set in a dystopian future with a disturbing resemblance to the present. The main character reminds me vaguely of Hermann Hesse's Steppenwolf, but I can't say why. Maybe it's his obsession with his own mortality.)
-from Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteyngart, an excellent, excellent book which I loved reading. (I don't normally read love stories. I'm not sure it's really a love story at all. It's set in a dystopian future with a disturbing resemblance to the present. The main character reminds me vaguely of Hermann Hesse's Steppenwolf, but I can't say why. Maybe it's his obsession with his own mortality.)
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