See, this is why I don’t, as a rule, read fiction: Don’t make me care about people who aren’t real. But the thing is, I kind of worship every word you write. So after resisting Downtown Owl because it’s the F-word, I realized one can only read Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs in repeat so many times, and I caved.
Why are you hurting me with Horace? You KNOW I have a soft spot for old guys—why would you have a whole scene where he shops for his “old man food” and call it “old man food” ?! Why would he put “Elf Crispies, what he called Rice Crispies” on his sad little shopping list, because how cute and desolate is that? Why would he get conned out of his wife’s life insurance policy by someone he thought was his new friend who he was so excited about? Then his other friend saying “you can’t con an honest man?”
And why would you include the tiny, perfect, crushing detail of how much the Dewar’s cost? I just saw some in the store and teared up.”But Horace (sniff) bought Dewar’s for his con man friend.” Horace isn’t real. (But I love him.)
I’m not finished with the book yet, but if Horace dies, I swear to God. I swear to God, Chuck Klosterman.
You are Killing Me to Live.