At first I liked this book because the narrator was so unlikeable - smug, self-centered, clueless - and yet because of his obvious weakenesses I identified with him. And it is so rare to see an unlikeable narrator in genre fiction. But as the book went on and on, the narrator's ponitification (his presentation of pet peeves as dire warnings of social decay) wore me out. Ultimately, what could have been an enjoyable and informative read, became an apologia for self-serving and passive melancholy.
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