It does have a great title.

25. Zombie Spaceship Wasteland – Patton Oswalt

There has been a disturbing trend in some of the recent memoir/nonfiction books I’ve encountered lately – they are made up of articles that have nothing in common other than the person who wrote them and yet, the book is not presented as “random crap this famous person decided to compile so you would buy it.” I just wish they’d think a little more about the overall experience of reading the book. Each essay should have a beginning, a middle, an end, and a theme that connects the book (if they want it to appear as a coherent whole and they’re certainly marketing these books as coherent wholes). Maybe I’m missing something, perhaps things like blogging and the possibility of being as disconnected as possible is all right with today’s readers and the “whatever I want to say” principle has wandered into publishing at an alarming speed, or there was a connecting theme threaded through all of Zombie Spaceship Wasteland and Medium Raw, but I felt a definite disconnect.

I did enjoy many parts of Zombie Spaceship Wasteland, my current economic status gives me a bitterness that allows me to read about failure with great zeal (sort of) and so I particularly enjoy stories about people stuck in dead-end jobs like Oswalt’s tale of the movie theatre and his story about being totally stuck in a completely awful contract while a serial killer stalked the same area, he was not killed, although it seemed like he was presenting that as a preferable alternative to finishing his shows. I understand that sentiment greatly.

 

Pickles feels a definite disconnect as well, I feel that she’s too cute to be real and so she feels disconnected because she’s a replicant.

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