Purple West, by Jonathan Trosclair
10€, 374 pages
Luckily the photo shows the summary of the book, so I don’t have to write anything about the plot. I read the book quick, cause it’s a quick book, it runs your eyes up the wrong side of the road, which is what you’re meant to think, except you eventually find it’s a one-way street and this is more a simple maze leading to a dying future, as Trosclair, a very smart writer, has put us there in the near future, because like many young writers today, his main concern is that he sees no light anywhere. He likes his main character, Bushra, but not enough to lie to her, or to his readers. The modern world, as long predicted by technophobes and technocrats alike, is turning to shit. The shadowy bodies that pull the strings? They, too, are scared shitless–because all they can do as the controls prove yet again to be inutile is to reflexively grab for the cash, which, as we know, is the last grasp–sooner or later, the absolutely last gasp will be a corporeal desert death lunge. The hand will pin down a five dollar bill, and our best hope is that that last one will be able to say, hey, ain’t seen one of them in a while.