The Material
An amusing variation on the campus novel ... You get the feeling that Bordas... wants to put wokeness if not to bed, then down for a nice nap ... a stream of neurotic consciousness flowing from person to person, an extended "take my smartphone — please" routine, and an impressive piece of Q3 reading.
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Brimming with insecure characters, clever repartee, dark jokes and funny riffs ... A couple of subplots involve guns that, like some of the comedy routines, never detonate. But there’s also plenty of clever material, not just in the half-baked "bits," but in discussions about what subjects are off-limits, and whether emotion is the enemy of comedy.
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This is a novel about artists and what they think about all day – and it doesn’t exactly demolish any myths that their every waking moment is spent self-examining and remembering and theorising. I’m no standup so I can’t comment on the veracity of this, but it seems an exhausting way to live, let alone make a living. Is this what Bordas wants us to feel? But with its determinedly meandering plotlessness, the novel will ultimately stand (up) or fall depending on how much it makes you laugh.
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