In 2013 I read A Hologram for the King by Dave Eggers.
Eggers's most recent novel is full of potential. Unfortunately his purposeful use of sparse prose gives the reader the feeling that this novel lacked effort on the part of the author, which, I am sure, was by no means the case.
After finishing the book I found myself slightly frustrated. All the elements were there. A myriad of magnificent and relevant themes were touched on. There were moments of keen insight that I haven't experienced elsewhere. But lurking at the bottom of it all was the feeling that this was something just thrown together: easily read, easily dismissed.
Truthfully, though, after some reflection I find myself wondering if Eggers hasn't done this to prove his point. A novel with Alan Clay as the protagonist surely would not be filled with beautiful language and supreme revelation. In fact, a novel written around Alan Clay would seem sparse and altogether unfulfilling.
This possibility did not dawn on me until the last few pages (I won't mention when or why). And now, as I think back to the rest of the novel, I can say that there is probably something to this idea. And I commend Eggers for the simplicity and unassuming way in which he has made me tremble. First, at our present digital and globalized age and all its complication and consequence. Second, at the terrors of the modern man's adulthood.