I genuinely hate Quentin.
A major WTF wrapped in a nice juicy slice of Oh, shit and baked until it’s a sloppy soup of Who the hell knows?
Supremely literary; each sentence is its own masterpiece: a mentally floating journey along the lazy river (one or two rapids, maybe) of baby’s spatially void existence
Slow and fast at turns, the book feels a bit like a summer even though it’s the dead of winter
An epic (if predictable) video game/space opera/virtual reality book obsessed with the 80s
Sweetbitter: a novel of contradiction and difference.
A fun PI romp with some arson, gun lessons, extortion, waiting with guns, missing people, and matter-of-fact feminism.
Beautifully written and disturbingly nostalgic (about a murderous cult).
A heartwrenching and emotional book which is vital in its scope.