Ghostwritten

Jerome can't bear the sight of his own reflection, he once confessed after drinking a bottle of cheap sherry, and he's never owned a mirror. I asked him why. He told me that whenever he looks into one he sees a man inside it, and thinks, “Who in God's name are you?”

The fact that this is a debut novel is wild. How the fuck is this a debut novel?! The ambition, breadth, and scope is bananas. I am a sucker for intersecting storylines, which is the crux of this novel, as it threads together individuals' experiences throughout history, from a doomsday cult member in Japan, to an Irish genius whose work in quantum physics threatens to engender nuclear war, to an all-night radio host in Manhattan, and so on.

I am certain I missed a great deal and will benefit from researching it a bit. Highly recommend.