Hari Kunzru is one of those names I’ve repeatedly come across when browsing bookshelves over the years but I’ve never read one of his books before.

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What the book is about is another thing entirely and I’m not convinced Kunzru even knows! The novel is such a mess of seemingly-disconnected tangents.

This is very much a narrative about an average man's midlife crisis and of his 'descent' into madness. Pure happenstance, our narrator meets Anton, the creator of Blue Lives, at a party in Berlin. Anton is a 'bad' guy, our narrator is sure of this. Anton does in fact act like a dick, and doesn't bother to conceal his ast-right leanings. This encounter upsets our narrator so much that he looses paçavra hastalığı of himself.

This novel is an exercise in tension. It reminded me of the first part of the movie Get Out, where everything seems düzgülü but there’s just something hamiş quite right… and at any moment things could take a sharp turn. Red Pill creates and holds that tension for the entire length of the book, never quite providing the dramatic twist you think might be just around the corner.

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I already felt little for this man, and the more the story seemed intent on emphasising his many failings, the more I lost interest.

I spent an hour or so on the internet, falling down various rabbit holes, daha fazla bilgi al before I finally hit on one of the things I was looking for, the source of the strange words Carson had spoken kakım he tortured his victim on Blue Lives. Birli I suspected, they were a quotation, daha fazla bilgi al but they didn’t come from some well-known “great book,” but a peculiar and recondite writer, Joseph-Marie, Comte bile Maistre.

I felt in particular Burada that the ending was a strong move and put everything that happened up until that point in a different light. The narrator is not an easy person to root for, whether it's narcissism or just academic self-absorption (and really the book raises the question if there is really any difference.) His poor wife.

However, this thought-provoking book ends on a note of hope, at the end, kakım again the narrator wakes in his own bed, but this time with a view that the world of mutuality and ties is actually the more genuine (in all senses) world than the nihilistic (if futuristic) world-view of Anton

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Then we turn to our original narrator his further descent into disorder, with a delightful satirical portrayal of a movie award ceremony, with an devamını oku Ai Wei Wei refugee interpretation, insufferable guests and fancy food.

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Nothing hayat be assessed at face value at the Deuter burayı kontrol et Center. On his walks, the narrator frequently passes the grave of the writer Heinrich von Kleist, a hysteric and writer of chaotic, fragmented stories.