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“A sometimes-hilarious, sometimes-crushingly sad romp through a man’s swelling nihilism and disenchantment. . . .This book is very much about nostalgia for a past of exaggerated quirks and curious beauty. So many of us are compelled to believe these things are on the fringes, are odd an unordinary, but this little novella, much like Miranda July of David Eggers’ stories, tries to portray these things unashamedly, as 'something that feels perfect and correct.'”
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