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Synopsis Desperate to reverse his emotional descent into middle age, a history professor pops a bittersweet cocktail of memory pills,
Xanax, and nostalgia.
Review Pagan Kennedy, a '90s 'zine queen turned novelist, ventures into a surreal genre of time travel, addiction, and midlife crises in her new novel. Seeded in
the social and pharmacological influences of Thomas De Quincey's poppies, Confessions of a Memory Eater succeeds in being both a quick, suspenseful read and a more thoughtful probe into what exactly we fear we lose with age.
Win Duncan, a 40-year-old history professor in New Hampshire, has lost the spark of his youth, the love of his wife, and the
chance at earning tenure at Mercy College. Defeated and settling in for old age, Win gets a call from an old friend and troublemaker,
Phil Litminov, who offers Win the chance to go back.
Litminov's mode of time travel is a little, brown pill, lovingly dubbed "Mem," which Win uses to revel in the glory of his
younger selves. Win steers himself through his first blowjob, the long-forgotten pride of being admired by his wife, and his
old Columbia haunts — the moments when he believed that the world was his for the taking. While the trips are euphoric, they leave him
nearly paralyzed with grief and regret, and almost unable to survive in the present day.
Like De Quincey, Win sets out to write a book that simulates the experience of taking his drug of choice, effectively drawing the reader into a nostalgic trance of real and re-crafted memories. If Mem grants Win the chance to
viscerally re-enter the past, Confessions of a Memory Eater nudges readers to explore their own troves of memory and compare the person who lived them to the person who remembers them. - McKay McFadden
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Synopsis An intrepid anti-tourist explores the remote republics of the former Soviet Union and finds... nothing.
Review Tatarstan, Kalmykia, Mari El, and Udmurtia. They sound like countries out of a Conan comic or planets Captain Kirk might have visited. But they are very much real, and Daniel Kalder has visited them — chiefly because they have "no representation in the Western
imagination."
You'll learn that the capital city of Tatarstan was destroyed by Ivan the Terrible in 1552; Kalmykia's president, who was recently re-elected as the head of the International Chess Federation, believes he was abducted by aliens; some natives of Mari El's Yoshkar Ola still worship trees; and the inventor of the AK-47 hails from Udmurtia.
Kalder's travelogue is an odd book. It begins with a manifesto that concerns the behavior of "anti-tourists" (if the words "four-star," "first-class," or "fanny pack" are part of your
travel experience, you're definitely not an anti-tourist). The book is riddled with black-and-white photographs bearing captions
such as "The Secret History of the World #15, 611" and subtitles such as "An Irritating Interlude to Build Suspense" — of
which there is very little.
Admittedly, Lost Cosmonaut is, on occasion, boring, but it's meant to be. Kalder refuses to invent or enhance his experiences. If the highlight of an
evening in, say, Elista is a crap meal in the Sputnik Café, that's exactly what he describes. Extreme journalism it's not, but it just might be the perfect book to take with you on your next trip. Most travelers will be grateful that
they're not in one of the "noplaces" that Kalder so lovingly describes; but perhaps some travelers, inspired by this anti-tourist
manifesto, will stray from their hotels, wander off the grid, and discover something completely ordinary. - Jim Ruland
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