(Copied from an old review originally posted elsewhere.)
Someone needs to do a study of Needlessly Apocalyptic Endings in Modern Fiction. Most of this book is great fun; hip and funny, and also a Work of Ideas, all about art and love and design and integrity and stuff. Then (somewhere around the Frat Party scene) Kidd seems to have realized it was about time for the ending, and reached for the explosives.
The last two chapters seem to be mostly a hallucinatory dream induced by lack of sleep (the protagonist's, that is, although I could believe it of Kidd also). Which is very nice and modern and all, but I'd rather know what *happened*. Unless I'm overly dense, Kidd is violating his own quite plausible design rule: when designing an object of whatever kind, it's more important that it accomplish the purpose than that it look clever.
But anyway! It's a good book, and do read it. It won't take all that long; it's a pretty wild and energetic ride. And maybe the ending that was silly and opaque to me will be lucid and relevatory to you. You Never Know.

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