Category Archives: Books/Media

Would it be hyperbole to claim that I feel a little raped by this novel?

But in all seriousness, Heart Killer is probably the most gripping work of fiction published in the past year. Beyond being an evolution in Andy Nowicki’s storytelling, Heart Killer is absolutely required reading for manospherians for its psychological insight into male and female sexuality. Just be forewarned: even if you’ve read Nowicki’s previous books, Heart Killer takes things to another level of sickness.

The story concerns FBI profiler Frances Lazarus, who is dispatched to Atlanta in 1987 to investigate a potential serial killer at the prestigious Cordelia Academy high school, after a wave of young girls are found dead from being shot through the heart. While there, she meets Johann Salvadorus, a bizarre, dorky student who she suspects to be the “Cordelia Heart-Killer.” Reading through his personal journal, she discovers that he is a middle-aged man in a teenager’s body, inexplicably sent back in time after spending his life becoming a ruthless player and Casanova:

In front of me, as expected, stood Frieda, done up like a fantasy prom date, in a skimpy red minidress. She didn’t apologize for showing up unannounced; that would have been too much like her mousy old “nice girl” self. I had ceased to be her friend and confidant, and had instead become a pawn, a means of obtaining comeuppance against her faithless husband. Standing in an alluring pose, the hint of a smile animating her painted face, she asked if she could come in. I opened the door, and asked how she’d found my apartment. She said she had her ways, and I replied that I didn’t doubt it. Her smile widened, almost imperceptibly, at that. Then I asked if I could do anything for her, which prompted her to get right to the point.

“You can fuck me, good and long,” she said softly.

The novel oscillates between four different perspectives: Lazarus’ own, Johann’s (via his journal), and two unnamed third-person narrators who describe the aftermath of their encounter. This is easily one of Heart Killer’s most effective conceits, as it forces you to stare down the depravity—and the redemption—of our lead characters. Given some of Nowicki’s writing in the past in regards to game and sexuality, a basic reading of Heart Killer’s plot makes it seem like a slightly more erudite version of those MRA/MGTOW losers who claim that game is “supplication” and “degenerate” and the path to “real” manliness consists of being yourself, even if you’re an antisocial freakazoid who enjoys eating paste straight from the jar.

You would be wrong. Oh, you would be so wrong.

Andy Nowicki excels as a writer precisely because despite his ideological biases, he can step outside of his own life and imagine what the world looks like from the perspective of people completely unlike himself. Additionally, Nowicki realizes that even in the most evil person imaginable, there is a flicker of goodness, a chance of regaining God’s grace. It is this hope of salvation, no matter how tiny and remote, that gives his fiction pathos and makes his characters believable.

Nowicki’s books are Christian in the sense that Anthony Burgess’ novels were Christian; implicitly rather than explicitly.

For example, the first part of Heart Killer, written from Lazarus’ perspective, details the sordid and morbid reason she chose to become a criminal profiler: she secretly desires to be ridden hard and put up wet by the serial murderers and psychopaths she pursues. During one gripping segment, Lazarus develops an infatuation with her sister’s boyfriend, a classic “dark triad” sociopath who gets his jollies from abusing women, who naturally keep coming back for more:

“Whore! Don’t tell me you’re a virgin! I just took that from you, whore! So what are you, now? What are you? (loud smack) I said, what are you? Answer me! (sobbing and sniveling) Stop crying… just tell me: what are you?”

Then I heard the girl, whimpering, “I’m — I’m a whore…”

“A whore!” he shouted, triumphantly. “I just made you a whore. And you let me do it! Aw, you bled all over my bed, whore. What am I gonna do with you?” The poor girl whispered something in response, to which he shouted, “Speak up!”

“I don’t know,” she repeated, between sobs.

“Oh, you know,” he insisted. “You know, all right. You’re going to have to die.”

In the hands of a manospambot or an MRA/MGTOW/Orthosphere-type, this would have devolved into a limp, hackneyed morality play, either of the Heartiste variety (“Women are amoral, hamster-headed tingle-led demonspawn!”) or the conservative variety (“This modern world is sick, that it would drive women to such depravity!”). In Nowicki’s hands, it makes us care about what happens to Lazarus, even if on a certain level we despise her. Yes, she’s fucked in the head, but she’s not a monster. The same goes for Johann, the “Heart-Killer” himself; even as he descends into the pits of a metaphorical hell, he is given humanity.

It’s this humanity—this one burning candle in the dark cave—that makes the book’s ending, where Johann and Lazarus receive deliverance of a sort, so wrenching. I won’t spoil more beyond what I’ve written in this review, only to say that Nowicki knows how to stab you in the heart and twist it in deep. I haven’t felt this shaken by a work of fiction since when I saw Barton Fink for the first time.

The biggest flaws I see in the book come in its middle and end. Per Nowicki’s usual M.O., Johann Salvadorus is a self-immolating, world-weary and depressive Catholic (in spirit if not officially) loser, though fortunately he’s far less of a cardboard cutout than the protagonists of his previous novels. Additionally, the book’s finale, which spirals into the realm of alternative history, is too fantastical to believe, even as the novel’s characters are utterly, disturbingly believable. Again, I won’t spoil it, other than to say that it’s the most absurd variety of alt-right wish fulfillment you’ll ever read.

But honestly, alt-right, manosphere or whatever your ideological poison is, Heart Killer is easily one of the best novels of the 2010’s. I can say that with confidence even though we’re not even halfway through the 10’s; it’s that good. It’s a novel that disgusts you, yet lifts you up, gives you a bit of hope. If you read nothing else Nowicki has written, read Heart Killer.

Click here to buy Heart Killer.

Read Next: Considering Suicide by Andy Nowicki

Nowicki’s fourth novella, Under the Nihil is a more difficult work to tear into than his previous outings, because it’s considerably less hamfisted with its themes and motifs. Nihil concerns an unnamed protagonist who, after being expelled from seminary school for being suspected of being a child molester, accepts an assignment from a “Mr. X” to test out an experimental new drug known as “nihil”:

“I can’t tell you how or why it works, to the extent that it does work,” you said. “And I’m not at liberty even to say what nihil is composed of, chemically speaking.” You pronounced nihil the same way one does the river in Egypt, on which Death stalked the dwellers of the cruise ship in that famous Agatha Christie novel. The nihil was so named, you said, because it had been designed to dissolve one’s fear and apprehension in the heat of battle, to render one’s natural inhibitors ineffective; in essence, its function was to reverse God’s miraculous creative gifts, and render nothing out of something, rather than vice versa.

One of Nihil’s most interesting aspects is that it’s written in the second-person, under the guise of the protagonist’s letters to Mr. X. It’s a surprisingly effective conceit that plunges you deep into the story, from the protagonist’s shacking up with a past-her-prime single mother to his final act of rebellion. The book’s plot twist is one of the finest I’ve read in a modern work of fiction; it’s both predictable yet unpredictable, and a striking commentary on the modern conception of “nihilism.”

“You cruel little cock tease,” I spat. “How many dorky little boys have you taken in with your so-called ‘charms’? How many times have you flashed your thighs in class, while sitting innocently at your desk, or bent over to pick up a pencil, putting your cleavage on display? You love it, don’t you? You love toying with them, laughing at their torment. You get off on it, don’t you?

Overall, Under the Nihil is a brilliant, if somewhat obtuse, read.

Click here to buy Under the Nihil.

Read Next: Considering Suicide by Andy Nowicki

English Teacher X’s fourth book, it’s a crash course on how not to get killed, scammed, raped or otherwise smacked around when you move abroad. A dream of many in the manosphere, living abroad can easily fuck you up if you aren’t prepared. ETX has lived abroad for the better part of twenty years in half-a-dozen different countries, making him more than qualified to espouse on expatriation:

Now – the exchange rates of the world, like the value of stocks and shares, have gone all over the place in recent years. But there’s been such inflation in the cost of living in third world countries, that the exchange rate is just as likely to hammer the dollar or euro as to help it.

(There was a lovely black market in currency exchange all around the world, especially in Eastern Europe, during the ‘90s, in which charming men in leather jackets with really bloodshot eyes would offer to buy your dollars, and perhaps drug you and fuck you up the ass. Now it’s the big banks that do all the fucking.)

How to Survive Living Abroad covers everything you could possibly want to know about the subject, from making money to visas to sex, drugs and disease. It’s leavened with ETX’s typical bleak humor, making reading it an absolute joy; I was cracking up after every other paragraph. The most valuable chapter is the one dealing with personal security, as ETX comprehensively guides you on how to protect yourself from thieves, pickpockets, and other criminals.

So try to find a hiding place for your valuables that can’t be scanned quickly. If you have a bunch of boxes and bags and bottles under your sink, or in your closet, maybe choosing one to hide stuff in would be a good idea; it would take a burglar a long time to go through all of them, and generally speaking, burglars don’t want to linger, especially since they might well have already spent quite a bit of time taking a dump on your floor and smelling your underwear and jerking off on your picture and so forth.

While more sensitive types might be off-put by ETX’s cynicism and writing style, How to Survive Living Abroad is easily one of the best resources out there for budding expats.

Click here to buy How to Survive Living Abroad.

Read Next: Guide to Teaching English Abroad by English Teacher X

This is a collection of three short stories revolving around Nowicki’s usual themes of alienation, loserdom and Catholicism. The eponymous tale is notable as it features Nowicki’s first (and to date only) woman protagonist. Dr. Carol Golden is a terminally depressed widower with a crush on one of her patients, the tortured and handsome Fenton Balonsky:

The doctor groaned and writhed violently as her body gushed crystalline treasure all over her sheets, in such copious quantity that it frightened her. She wondered if she might die, here in her plush bed, surrounded by all her worldly possessions, alone; expiring in terrible ecstasy as her sticky, fluidic essence spurted out, leaving behind a lifeless shell, a pretty, middle-aged corpse lying in a thick puddle of spent pleasure.

“The Doctor and the Heretic” is riveting, thanks to Nowicki’s attention to detail and ability to convincingly portray a female character, but the real star of the show is the story immediately following it. “Tears of the Damned” is an alternate history tale showing what might have happened had Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris had become upstanding citizens rather than committing the Columbine attacks. It covers similar territory as The Columbine Pilgrim, but from a new and unexpected angle:

After the initial shock of the news wore off, Dylan found himself feeling emotions that were harder to comprehend. He felt somehow guilty, like he’d let his friend down. He felt that he ought to have been by Eric’s side when he died, and he felt that he too should be dead, but that he’d gotten off easy. Once again, Dylan couldn’t help thinking that he’d been cheated out of something that was rightfully his. Eric and he had belonged together in life, as well as in death. But what could it mean, this bizarre thought? Dylan shook it off. After a period of mourning, he fell back into the intricacies of his collegiate life: the weekday classes, the weekend parties, the daily, weekly, and monthly routine.

The final story, “Autobiography of a Violent Soul,” is a Considering Suicide-esque narrative about a morose, self-immolating loser. It’s the weakest of the bunch, but still quite funny. If you enjoy Nowicki’s works, The Doctor and the Heretic and Other Stories is a worthy addition to your library.

Click here to buy The Doctor and the Heretic and Other Stories.

Read Next: The Columbine Pilgrim by Andy Nowicki

English Teacher X’s third book is more of a niche title than his other releases, aimed squarely at those who are already teaching English abroad. As the title suggests, it’s a book dedicated to speaking activities, the laborious process of getting your students to actually speak the language you’re teaching them. Despite the dry subject matter, ETX still manages to work in some of his trademark humor, such as with these “personal development” questions:

1) Think of the five main reasons that you suck as an English teacher.

2) Why do you speak so much in class, you dumbass?

3) Why are your lessons so boring and stupid? Try to think of at least five reasons.

Speaking Activities is brief and has little application if you’re not an English teacher, but if you enjoy English Teacher X’s writing, it’s still worth the buy considering its low price.

Click here to buy Speaking Activities That Don’t Suck.

Read Next: Guide to Teaching English Abroad by English Teacher X

This is a brief but hilarious collection of travel stories, detailing how English Teacher X actually became English Teacher X; he had been backpacking around the world and didn’t want to go home. Starting from his early days in Bangkok, ETX’s strange career takes him to Seoul to New York City back to Thailand, and then to Prague and Russia, dropping acid, fucking girls and encountering a bizarre menagerie of degenerates and washouts:

One teacher said English Teacher D had come to the door one night staggering and slurring and asked, “Have you got a knife? The thinner and sharper the better.”

Figuring English Teacher D intended to kill himself or someone else, the teacher declined, but found out later English Teacher D had just locked himself out and wanted to jimmy the lock. He woke up most of his neighbors asking for a knife.

I think I can safely say it was a bit unnerving, having this strange wasted little troll of a man show up at your door asking for a sharp knife.

My biggest criticism of To Travel Hopelessly is that it largely lacks an underlying narrative structure. The stories are organized in chronological order, but there’s nothing beyond that, making the book feel like a series of vaguely related short stories instead of an organized, cohesive work. While the new edition (released in June 2012) has a much improved ending and some additional chapters (I initially wrote this review after reading the original edition), the book might have been slightly improved had ETX ended it with his adventures in Prague and saving the Russia section for his Vodkaberg memoir:

Here I discovered that there were indeed a few Korean girls who wanted to remain virgins. She would not permit anything “below the waist” to happen. “Hajima!” (Enough!) she gasped as I repeatedly tried to get my hand into her jeans. Finally, I just took my cock out and jacked off, which she encouraged.

Afterwards she avoided me and refused to speak to me beyond polite greetings.

Nonetheless, if you’re into sick, graphic tales of overseas debauchery, To Travel Hopelessly is a good read.

Click here to buy To Travel Hopelessly.

Read Next: Guide to Teaching English Abroad by English Teacher X

The Columbine Pilgrim is one of those books that is viscerally disgusting and shocking, yet at the same time, you’re thankful for reading it because it fills you with hope. Just a glimmer of hope, but it’s there.

I should warn you though: this book is not for the squeamish.

I described Andy Nowicki in my Considering Suicide review as a guy who has mastered the art of using modernity’s own language and ethos to skewer it, and The Columbine Pilgrim is his finest work to date. The plot concerns Tony Meander, a lifelong loser who was mercilessly bullied and harassed in high school. The first part of the book concerns his “pilgrimage” to Columbine High School; having elevated Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold to the status of demigods, we’re left to watch Meander relive his teenage torment in wrenching detail:

But I did no such thing. Instead, I saw myself shake, in fact, tremble with fear and embarrassment. And on this day, of all days, Patti seemed in a particularly frisky and sadistic mood, and uninclined to leave anything to anyone’s imagination. She grabbed my neck, put her face close to mine, practically within kissing range, and her tone changed to one of frank disgust.

“Have you got an erection, Tony?” she spat. “Who do you think you are, anyway? You really think I find you hot or something? You want to fuck me? Listen, you pathetic retard . . . YOU WILL NEVER FUCK ME. NEVER!”

This is why you should buy The Columbine Pilgrim: it’s the most brutal and honest depiction of omegahood you’ll find in modern literature. I unfavorably compared Frost’s Generation of Men to Columbine Pilgrim for that reason; where Frost’s presentation of omega is contrived and hackneyed, Nowicki’s is frank and in-your-face, enough so that it makes Meander’s fall from grace all the more breathtaking.

That’s the other reason why The Columbine Pilgrim succeeds: it’s complicated. It would have been really easy to turn it into a sentimental morality tale about the evils of intolerance, but Nowicki resists that urge with gusto. Meander may have been unfairly persecuted, but his suffering doesn’t make him into a better human being; on the contrary, it turns him into a snarling, egomaniacal monster. Indeed, Nowicki takes a few cracks at those obnoxiously didactic types at the end of the book:

“This one guy, [name redacted], stopped me in the hall one day, and asked me if I wanted an M&M. Some other guys behind him were snickering when he said this, so I knew they were up to no good. I said, ‘no thanks.’ But then they surrounded me, started smacking me across the head, threatened to beat me up, stared calling me a ‘pud’ and a ‘sped,’ and stuff, and I saw that if didn’t do what they said, things would just get worse, so I took the M&M and ate it in front of them, which just made them all bust out laughing. [Name redacted] told me that the M&M had been on the crack of his dick. I felt sick, and they laughed at me again, called me ‘cum-eater,’ and smacked me around some more before the tardy bell rang . . . This was par for the course. Every day it was something. Everybody knew, and nobody tried to stop it.”

The Columbine Pilgrim is not an easy book. It’s not something that will make you laugh, nor is it the kind of book you take into the bathroom with you. It’s a book that you’ll be turning over in your mind for days after you finish it. Nowicki’s characterization, tone and storytelling are perfect, and he respects his readers’ intelligence. If you buy only one book of his, it should be this.

Click here to buy The Columbine Pilgrim.

Read Next: Considering Suicide by Andy Nowicki

Hallelujah, praise Jesus! Those of us who were hoping that Roosh would write another memoir have had our prayers answered with Why Can’t I Use a Smiley Face? While it’s not the epic adventure that A Dead Bat in Paraguay was, Smiley Face is a demonstrable improvement over 30 Bangs and a poignant tale in its own right.

As the subtitle states, Smiley Face is about when Roosh returned home to the U.S. for a month last year after spending close to two years traveling across Europe. What happens when a man who’s found poosy paradise in Poland, insulted portly, feminist harridans in Denmark and visited nearly a dozen other countries reunites with people he’s known his entire life who haven’t had similar adventures? Ennui and alienation:

When you don’t see someone for nearly two years, it only takes two minutes to feel like you never left them. It’s almost disappointing how anticlimactic returns can be. I want it to be exciting. I want to feel like the world has changed. But the world hasn’t changed. Your family and friends continue to live the same life as before you left, while you’ve done things they couldn’t possibly understand. The saddest part is that the change you go through while living abroad puts you even farther apart from those you care about most. It’s harder to identify with them, their stability, and their reluctance to dive into the life you love.

That’s the defining theme of Smiley Face: alienation. Roosh’s experiences abroad have objectively made him a better man, but they’ve also distanced him from his friends and family. Throughout the book, while Roosh sees and does many different things—gambling with his dad in Atlantic City, going out with his buddy Virgle Kent, and getting attacked by a random drunk bitch on the streets of D.C.—he is constantly confronted with a simple fact:

He no longer belongs in America.

The title of the book drives this home, as it relates to the sea change in Roosh’s attitude towards women and sex. After spending the bulk of his time abroad in eastern Europe, where women are still women and men are rewarded for being men, he finds himself ill-suited for returning to America’s screwed-up sexual marketplace. When you’ve been screwing sweet, feminine girls who actually make you feel wanted and respected, what’s the motivation to pursue androgynous, overweight termagents who punish you for being anything less than a cocky, inhumanly perfect funnyman?

A lot of guys ask me if DC is “really” that bad. A month in DC won’t kill you. Even a year won’t. But if you stay long enough, the city beats you down and changes you for the worse. You can be in the prime of your life, with testosterone raging through your body, yet you don’t even feel like getting laid.

To me, the chapters that were the most touching was when Roosh reunited with his mother and sister only to discover that they are disgusted with his life choices and think he should abandon his online empire, go back to his boring 9-to-5 job and get married. Despite all the success he’s had with his books and his blog, despite the fact that he’s living a life that most people would kill to have, they think that he should throw it all away and go back to being a mindless office slave who “respects” women. The deterioration of his relationship with his sister is especially moving, given the close relationship they had growing up:

Things cooled down and we talked about Croatia and how the culture was in some ways similar to Turkey. My sister didn’t stay in the room because the Washington Redskins game was on. I didn’t remember her being such a fan, especially since she was hooting and hollering. I said, “You know, I forgot to tell you that I’m only here for a month. When I leave there will be ten more games. Then the playoffs. Then the Super Bowl.”

“Ew, stop being an asshole,” she said. “Our lives don’t stop just because you’re in town.”

As someone who abandoned any semblance of a normal life to pursue a writing career and espouse red pill beliefs under my real name, this really got to me. The simple reality is that the very measures we men take to improve our lives have the downside of isolating us from our loved ones, who can’t and won’t follow in our footsteps. Watching people you’ve known your entire life slide into consumerist and feminist apathy is painful, mainly because we can’t do anything about it.

Roosh confronts this feeling in a way no other manosphere writer has.

The other portion of Smiley Face I liked was Roosh’s account of the big manosphere meet-up in Washington, D.C. last year. While I couldn’t attend the meet-up myself, being in the depths of the North Dakota oil basin at the time, I’m friends with Roosh, Bronan, Professor Mentu, Bill Powell and all of the other big names who turned out for it, so I have an insider’s account of what happened. That’s why I find all the “anti-game” dorks who tried to claim that the meet-up was a disaster so hilarious: they have absolutely no clue what really happened, what goes on behind the red curtain.

Roosh’s account of what happened in D.C. is not only funny to read, it will set the facts straight for anyone who’s not privy to what happens behind the scenes.

The biggest problem with Why Can’t I Use a Smiley Face? is that it lacks context. The book assumes that you’re familiar with Roosh’s blog and life story as relayed in A Dead Bat in Paraguay; if you haven’t read that book, the poignancy of Smiley Face will be lost on you. I’ve been reading Roosh’s blog for close to five years and worked with him online for three, so the book has a far greater impact on me then it would on someone who isn’t as a big a fan of him. Roosh is selling Smiley Face at the bargain price of $3 to compensate for its brevity.

Bottom line: if you already like Roosh’s writing and you’ve read Paraguay, Why Can’t I Use a Smiley Face? is an affecting and emotionally wrenching read. If you haven’t done either, pick up Paraguay first, otherwise Smiley Face won’t have much of an impact on you.

Click here to buy Why Can’t I Use a Smiley Face?

Read Next: Roosh’s Argentina Compendium: Pickup Tips, City Guides, and Stories by Roosh V

English Teacher X is precisely what the name implies: an English teacher. Between him recounting stories of boozing, whoring and drug abuse, he has some serious wisdom to impart on teaching the language overseas. To this effect, like with Andy Nowicki’s books, I’m re-reviewing all of ETX’s releases for the next few weeks, starting with his first, Guide to Teaching English Abroad.

This is a brand-new edition of the book, featuring interviews with other English teachers, more of ETX’s hilarious cartoons, and other bonuses. All of these items add up to make what is already one of the best resources out there for prospective English teachers even better:

A typical English teacher in Turkey or Thailand is very lucky to make $1,000 a month, and maybe a crappy apartment somewhere, which will often be shared with other teachers. You might make $1500 in China or Russia, but again you’ll be sharing a flat and the cost of living is now soaring in both of those places. Schools will very begrudgingly throw in a plane ticket home, at the end of the contract, and might even promise you some “health insurance,” which often just means they’ll take you to whatever is locally available in the way of free clinics.

Even if you aren’t interested in becoming an English teacher, Guide to Teaching English Abroad is absolutely worth the buy for English Teacher X’s bleak, black sense of humor and cynicism. While he doesn’t advise against it, ETX doesn’t bullshit you or try to hide the reality of the job:

“Experienced English teacher will give lessons in own home …”

Well, now that will put a lot of students off right there, won’t it? Go to a nice, well-lit, well-equipped language school with a telephone number and contracts and secretaries and such, or try to deal with some misanthropic English-teaching drop-out in his filthy crappy apartment?

Or, even better, invite this weird loser into your own home or office. Yeah, right. Better keep the silverware hidden and the liquor cabinet locked.

Also of note: until the end of March, all of English Teacher X’s Kindle books are on sale for just $2.99. At that price, you’d be a fool not to snap this one up.

Click here to buy Guide to Teaching English Abroad.

Read Next: The Freedom Twenty-Five Lifestyle Guide by Frost

Now that I’ve published my own book, I’ve decided to spend this week reviewing books by some of my favorite authors and bloggers, starting with Andy Nowicki’s debut release, Considering Suicide. I mentioned his books in passing before, but I’ve pulled that post (along with my other “Book Reviews in Brief” articles) because they didn’t do him justice. I’m now going to re-review all of Nowicki’s books once a week, leading up to his most recent (and fantastic) novel, Heart Killer.

Considering Suicide is exactly what it sounds like; an epistolary novel by a man contemplating ending his own life. This may sound like your typical nihilistic drivel, but if you think that, it’s because you don’t know Andy Nowicki. He’s a master at co-opting the language and structure of modern literature for the express purpose of mocking modernity, like a cross between Chuck Palahniuk, Louis-Ferdinand Céline and Augustine. Watching the descent of his nameless protagonist—a despondent, jobless, loveless washout—into gibbering lunacy is both funny and poignant:

Is this what all those highfalutin faggots mean when they talk about “postmodernism?” What a fucking bore. To them, it’s just parlor talk. A way to score in academia. A way to show yourself to be a thoughtful person. Faggot poseurs with goatees and black sweaters and cushy jobs sitting in an office jacking off during “office hours” and teaching useless beer-swilling bong-smoking brats another two hours a week. Faggot intellectuals. Smug, mediocre pussies. Fuck your postmodern ethos, with your futuristic architecture at your galleries and your unreadable academic essays about “semio” this and “meta” that. Fuck your trendy post-structuralist, solipsistic, opportunistic, sycophantic so-called theories. You all think you’re wild-eyed nihilists out to stick your dicks up the asses of Middle America, don’t you? You’re pathetic. You’re far more pathetic than the bourgeoisie, the object of your ridicule. At least the bourgeoisie are consistent. Their lives may be dull, and they may be stupid, but they aren’t full of themselves like you are…

I’m not a big fan of the way the book is set up, as it’s somewhat difficult to follow the action, but given Considering Suicide’s subject matter, it’s more than appropriate. If you’re looking for a dark, hilarious skewering of modern America, this novel is a must-buy.

Click here to buy Considering Suicide.

Read Next: Krista Jane Heflin’s Suicide Was a Hoax