this book is a mixture of a lot of things. there are sections of considered prose, erotica, computer generated text, stolen tweets, biblical verse, psychological profiles, and me just mashing the keyboard or copying and pasting things over and over again.
it is an explosive novel, in the sense that i wired it up and pressed the plunger — it's a mess, whole chapters take place inside brackets and it has a twist ending thought up on the fly.
it's a novel about hating novels, or hating the privileged position of novels, or hating the way we read novels religiously, cover to cover, each word counting up to the whole. it's a novel that murders itself slowly over 200 pages.
it has two spelling mistakes in the title.
luckily there are only 75 copies.
(actually there are more now!)