“What if the terrorists opened their own store… and sold bad things?” Garret said. “What would they sell?” he said.
It sometimes seemed to him that for love to work, it had to be fair, that he should tell only half the joke, and she the other half. Otherwise, it would not be love, but something completely else — pity or entertainment, or stand-up comedy. “Well? What would they sell,” Garret said. “I can’t do everything in this relationship.”
Well, it would be easy to call this too cute, too prone to riffing on everyday things like a stand-up. But those feelings dried up as I got sucked into the author’s worldview. It’s a whimsical and morbid place to visit, but pleasant and predictable in its way, full of palatable pop culture references and dreamy, outsider satire. The terrorists are magical, lurking, plotting stupid pranks and vicious acts. The protesters are vague-minded, too prone to diversions, too disorganized. The young lovers are grumpy, immature, lightly doomed. But no matter how much you might expect a boom, what with all the drama queen terrorist imps out there, the end has got to be a gradual disolving. Pretty cool.