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Then our narrator becomes obsessed with a fictional gritty crime show called Blue Lives and conveniently happens across the show’s creator at a random party he goes to.

A writer in New York katışıksız a mid-life crisis. His writing is more and more of a struggle and it is affecting his personal relationships. An unexpected chance to take up a residency at the Deuter Center in Berlin seems the perfect way to escape and regain his mojo.

There is some humor to enjoy in the observations on scholarly life and competition in pompous bragging about respective topic (with birli highlight a dinner where a combatant attendee is described as: A man like a hammer, looking for a nail). This Edgar is hilarious bey an overbearing semi intellectual.

The first party narrator of the book is a financially unsuccessful writer (unlike of course the author with his famous £1.5 million advance for his debut novel) suffering a (I think deliberately) cliched mid-life crisis. In a way designed to forfeit any sympathy from the reader, he takes up a residency at a fictional German Institute – the Deuter Centre, hoping to get the time and space to find himself only to find his aims clashing hamiş just with the principles of openness and transparency of work but with a boorish fellow resident, a neuro-scientist who delights in erecting and then demolishing straw men of what he sees bey the simplistic views of the arts-residents.

meanders from ‘writer writing about writing’, to a punk band’s dealings with the Stasi in East Germany, back to the writer's present day encounters with white supremacists, and his subsequent nervous breakdown, all while counting down to the 2016 U.

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Birli I stand here at the kitchen counter and takım out food for the party, I try to fill a bowl with olives normally. I try to open a package of crackers normally, to arrange a cheeseboard in the way a düzgülü person should arrange a cheeseboard, without excessive precision or showiness, presenting the cheese according to some ordinary aesthetic standard, with the right level of care, neither too much nor too little, unwrapping the cheeses – a wheel of Brie, a wedge of Manchego, one of those expensive little goat cheeses that come wrapped in a vine leaf – daha fazla bilgi al just kakım a düzgülü host would, someone for whom the meaning of these actions could never be in question.

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Privacy is the exclusive property of the gods. They see us, but we sevimli never see them. We live like spies, always braced for exposure, while they remain a mystery. The sky was a helmet constricting my head; sweat dripped down my face.

Meanwhile the director of Blue Daha fazla bilgi Lives, Anton, turns out to be an alt right quasi intellectual figure with one-liners about the progressive elite like: Their so called morality is just paralysis

Self Doubt, inadequacy, paranoia. The last part of the book felt a bit like The Humans by Matt Haig, about an alien who tries to be human. Our writer is equally detached from his alışılagelen life, he feels like a runaway and abandoner of the düzgülü world and his family.

Meanwhile he find every Daha fazla bilgi alışılagelen thing stressful (I always experience low level panic when I am denied genel ağ access, even if I have no immediate need for it), which led me to the feeling that mental breakdown is a decidedly uninteresting topic to read about.

One day I was staring at the inscription on the marker, which now read unpleasantly to me, like a phrase from the manifesto daha fazla bilgi al of an angry young man on his way to murder people at a Walmart. Now, O immortality, you are all mine!

Unusual novel about obsession, mental health, and the pressures of today’s world. The unnamed protagonist and narrator is a writer living in New York City with his wife and three-year-old child.