A lives with B.
B seems to be becoming more and more like A.
If A's boyfriend, C, likes A because A is A, but now B is the same as A, where does that leave A?
And what has happened to the family across the street, who left one afternoon out of nowhere, covered in sheets with holes cut out for the eyes?
"Alexandra Kleeman understands the difficulty of having a flesh and blood body in a world of images and signs, she knows how it feels to be a hungry girl when appetite is a scandal, and how every relation with another person can feel like a stain on yourself. She has constructed a perfect fable for our present situation, an existential thriller written in prose that points the way to the future. You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine is as good a debut as I've ever read." (Zadie Smith )
"Excellent. The female body: What to do with it? You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine is a story about realizing you're hungry and trying to find out what for." (Slate)
"No one has ever written about having a body the way Alexandra Kleeman does...she writes like a gonzo journalist embedded in skin, discovering things like hair and saliva and eyeballs for the very first time.' (NPR)
"Kleeman's story is not really like any other, but could be described as a blend of the nightmarish disassociation of DeLillo's White Noise and the phantasmagoria of Bergman's Persona." (Publishers Weekly)
"This book will unsettle you; this book will make you feel intensely alive. Easily one of the best debuts of the year." (Buzzfeed)
"Kleeman's absurdist observations evoke masters like Don DeLillo and Thomas Pynchon, as well as the 'hysterical realism' of Ben Marcus and Tom Perrotta, bringing a refreshingly feminist frame to the postmodern conversation. Sharp humour and brisk storytelling ground the existential angst in this page-turning, entertaining performance." (Booklist Online)
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After reading it, l still dont know what its about
This is the strangest book l have ever read. I can only conclude that the main character is on drugs maybe LSD and describes a week long 'trip'. Everything she sees or experiences is examined in a babling internal dialogue down to the last tiny molicle which becomes beyond tedious. There is NO story, it is just a running commentary on her narsisistic life and obsession with candy cakes.