Cynicism Management, by Bori Praper

A satirical tour through contemporary Europe, from the Orkney Islands, to airport toilets, Slovenia, and, well, either Africa or the Middle East, for two plots are misaligned in the manner that our dystopian modernity manages quite easily. If you have a tattoo on your ass, you might be of more interest than you ever wanted to be as a musician. Ironically, the music is actually produced, laced throughout the novel, and is available through some mysterious processes younger people than I will have no difficulty navigating. That must make this metapublishing. The plot of the novel is thoroughly senseless, yet easy to follow, as it amounts to a satire involving recognizable 21st century humans being manipulated by opaque forces, and generally runnning about attempting to avoid senseless annihilation. It is not history, but neither, unfortunately, is it fantasy. There is indeed an evil corporation called Omnipile, and that alone should sell the book to any remaining thinking primates. The virtual need to compare the book to John Kennedy O’Toole’s suicide not is prevented by the insistent repetition of Bob Dylan sardonic comment after meeting Columbus: I just said good luck.