Fuckness

Trying to understand why I read this F*ckness.

i have a vague feeling that there is something to this, but largely i am not willing to spend a lot of time carving it, or the specific lack of it, out. there are several points, lines/events that seem to come very close to something really good and compelling, but just kind of wane away, leaving their potential to slowly melt in a pool of mild unease and disappointment somewhere in the back of your mind.

having said that, it's a decent book. it has value. i hope andersen prunty keeps writing.