The conceit is clever ... McGowan exploits the potential of her workplace setting with ruthless precision, the museum’s staff offering endless possibilities for sociopolitical commentary, interpersonal dalliances, economic hypocrisies and questions of cultural legacy ... The problem is, there’s no time for the reader to luxuriate in them. The novel’s pace matches that of its characters’ hellish workday — which is fun in theory and fatiguing in practice. Across the short, time-stamped sections, plot points pile up quickly, beat after perpetual beat ... McGowan’s prose is solid, her one-liners effortless, and political observations sound, if run of the mill ... But wasted potential is always a sad thing. With characters so thorny and a setup so fun, the novel’s politics should be anything but straightforward.
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