Sterling Karat Gold

Abandoned, p.78. I used to like a healthy dose of surrealism. Here, I tried and tried, but nope. Maybe I've grown too old. Maybe I'm not smart enough or hip enough for this book. Doesn't matter. I found it monotonous: angry stream of consciousness, uninteresting first-person protagonist, and the story caroms disjointedly – kind of like Meow Wolf, where it's just slapped together randomly and feels fun for a while. Only a while. Oh, plus lots of sports and fashion talk with promise of more to come. No thanks.