Read for school in May 1990, which is the worst possible time to meet this book and also the only time it fully works.
Three days, a narrator who tells you everything except the thing that is actually wrong, and a brother’s death that the book circles without ever landing on.
At seventeen I read him as right about everyone. The phoniness detector seemed like insight. It takes a while to notice the book agrees with you on purpose and is watching a kid come apart while he explains that everyone else is the problem.
