Or where in the world saying that a woman’s breasts are too big is an insult. No, I don’t know what a “Soulfurnace” is either. ‘They’re too big and they hang too low.’ ” ![]() But it was too late, I was already in there. I saw how she tried to keep her outrage to herself. I was not yet aware, you understand, that I was to become the Soulfurnace you see before you, But I was losing the bolt-uprightness I felt I deserved, so I added, I hope so, Because if I don’t want you, and believe me I don’t, then I don’t want you being happy with someone else when there’s any doubt that I might be with another girl.’ Maybe you’ll never really trust yourself again. You’ll have to sit there and listen while I wrench the U from the S. The design, along with the text, is an affront. Here’s a scene demonstrating his cruelty (both to his lover and the reader), which is set in what appears to be 14/15 New Times Roman. Besides the fact that the set-up for the comeuppance relies upon a very strange plot device-that there is a publishing program at Harvard where the STUDENTS can publish any books they want, no matter how ridiculous. The author keeps reminding readers that he will get his comeuppance, and he does, but who cares? By that time we’ve been punished by having to live through his boring day job and his masturbatory habits. Also, oddly, people at the agency have British names like “Graham.” And one has a niece in the author’s hometown of Kilkenny, which, yes, is what they do every week on South Park. ![]() Only he calls it “Hazleton.” You’d think this might come into play later, but you’d be wrong. Bizarrely, he gets an advertising job in an ad agency with the very Irish name of Killallon Fitzpatrick in a made-up town in Minnesota, conveniently located near the famous Hazelden Addiction Treatment Center. I was not given any idea of the sort of thrill he got from this emotional torture, other than he liked to do it. But everything is told and not shown, and not told very well. The anonymous author is writing this for public consumption. There is none of the excitement of participating in events as they happen, or the dirty fun of reading someone’s secrets. This is not in diary form, but in confessional form, making it exceedingly dull. Let’s start with the conceit-an alcoholic Irish guy living in London likes to emotionally hurt women. The only thing that kept me turning the pages was the disbelief that it was so bad. ![]() So get ready, folks! This is by far one of the suckiest books I’ve read in a long time. It's a surprise dark-horse Williamsburg bestseller.” It also got a decent review in Faster Times, which called it, “brisk, original, and deceptively astute.” The back cover claims that New York magazine called it “Kinky, artsy, and swoon-worthy.” Although I can’t find that review online, the magazine did feature it in their Valentine’s Day “Romantic Reads” feature, where a representative of hipster Brooklyn bookstore Spoonbill & Sugartown said that, "Women seem to be very fond of this book, about a down-and-out guy who has lots of trouble with women. Diary of An Oxygen Thief is getting high praise.
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