Sometime around a decade ago, when I was living in Boulder and delivering parts for a living, I was rear ended and got concussed. I was slightly more confused than usual and things that would normally make sense, didn't make sense. It wasn't a good feeling. Reading this book brought me back to that place. It was written in English, but damned if I knew what the hell Hoffman was trying to say. There wasn't a single story that I can say I liked at all. I almost wish the book was longer, because than I would have probably given up about 50 pages in; but by the time I had reached that point I was already halfway done and felt like I had to finish. 

I get that short stories are different, that they have to fit a lot into a short amount of space, and that they often end abruptly. That's fine, and definitely not the reason I didn't like this book. In fact, I can't really say why I didn't like it because I'm still so confused and angry that I had to spend a couple days of my ever-shortening life trying to read it. 

If I get invited to a birthday party for someone I don't like, but I feel like I should go cause a bunch of my friends will be there, and everyone else is bringing a gift, I'd probably buy them this book. 

On another note, this book was published by PM Press. I've been reading a big percentage of everything they publish for the past 17 years. This might be the first book of theirs that I straight up did not like.