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I like fiction. Do you like fiction? Of course you do. I have no idea what to do with you if you don’t, honestly, so you might as well fake it ’till you make it if you want to be friends.

I read a lot of books, and because I’m resistant to change I still buy the paper editions. Right now I’m reading The Crimson Petal and the White by Michael Faber, which is a novel set in the Victorian era about whores and class division and proto-feminism. It’s a lovely book; Faber is really invested in the setting, and there are lots of details about what everything sounds and smells and looks like. Also the edition I have is thick and heavy and has really nice paper, which is always a plus. I got it used off Amazon for…some amount of money, I don’t remember.

It’s like eating a wedding cake, except then all of a sudden you’ll realize that innocent description of the wife’s bedroom is actually a scathing remark on her relationship with her husband; then it’s like finding the razor blade with your tongue. It’s like eating a cake filled with razor blades. The cake is wearing a pretty dress, because it’s Victorian and a lady, or at least wants people to think it is.

Anyway, I am finding it kind of slow going, because just when I settle in for dessert I get all these unexpected injuries, and then when I show up in Kevlar it serves me petit fours, but it’s definitely worthwhile; so YOU should go and check it out if you like books about Victorian London, class division, or prostitutes, or very detailed books that occasionally like to punch you in the brain. Because this one will do all of those things.