-Algunos deben caminar portando una pesada cruz que ellos mismos han construido.-

Género. Novela.

Lo que nos cuenta. Conjunto de breves ¿relatos? ¿capítulos? ¿reflexiones? ¿entradas de un diario? ¿recuerdos? ilustrados, que cuando se toman como un todo nos relatan los pensamientos y preguntas que el solitario protagonista tiene en su cabeza y a los que no puede dejar de dar vueltas.

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This was an interesting little read. Formatted almost like a tween book where you get some little visual incentive and the stories remain short to address the short attention span. And this guy really writes form the standpoint of someone who never experienced life without a TV or media around him except for camping trips because his narration has that "flavor" to him. So its always a ongoing ride with him. I don't know if I always "get" him, but I like to read him regardless as it takes me outside my comfort zone.

I have been told—and have read—that this book will change my life. It did not. I do not doubt Coupland's ability to write. His prose is simple, but not spare, always divulging just enough to create the right impression—though his characters all sound alike as a result. But the pervasive road weary tone of voice, the wary (and hyperaware) disillusionment, began to grate on me. The self-consciously simplistic drawings troubled me, as well—they weren't irritating or distracting, but they didn't add anything of sufficient meaning to most of the stories—just cute and pointless. This is not a bad book, and for those in the right state of mind or stage of life it may be a great book. Though at times Coupland's stories were touching, for the most part it all seemed to hip to be sincere.

9/12: It's still a favorite, but I'd probably have this more at a 3.5 than a 5 now. Such a sad, angst-ridden story. Same characters struggling with the same issues as in every Coupland novel, but the small pockets of hope, the tiny observations about the greater bits of life and meaning, are so raw and powerful that the characters don't matter. And really, that's sort of the point.

I could underline great lines in this book for days. My favorite bit this time through: "For so many years I lived a life of solitude and I thought life was fine. But I knew that unless I explored intimacy and shared intimacy with someone else then life would never progress beyond a certain point. I remember thinking that unless I knew what was going on inside of someone else's head other than my own I was going to explode."

While the bulk of the book is about a character -- maybe multiple characters -- struggling with the belief in a higher power, it's much more about the struggle with finding meaning and purpose with one's own life beyond the place they're at at any given time.

I can't say I ever connect with the characters nor understand them nor necessarily sympathize with them, but they elicit reaction from me as I read nonetheless. There's not really a story here. It's just moments built upon moments built upon the struggle to make meaning from them all. Sometimes that's all you need.

Tried re-reading this the other day, and I just couldn't get myself back into it. All that Meaning-with-a-capital-M that seemed to be there when I was in my late teens/early 20s seemed a bit absent, so I stopped before I could completely ruin my good memories of this book. It's best to let angsty dogs lie, I suppose.

Come to think of it, maybe this is why I have such a hard time getting into a lot of Coupland's work that has come out since I graduated college. Maybe when you finally have some direction in your life, or can at least fake it half-decently on the phone to your parents, there isn't enough *there* there anymore?

I had to read this book for my micro narratives class. It surprised me. Seemingly thousands of stories questioning life and why we even try... it was almost depressing at moments. Coupland finds a way to bring readers back into that... "fetus" state of life as he called it. But at the same time- life seems to be a blackening pit with no redemption. The only character that seems remotely well off seems to hate her life.

A good read.

Read this in a sitting. It's a collection of non-linear short stories with anonymous narrators contemplating the meaning of life disconnected from religion in various obscure ways . I'm still struggling to make sense of it all, but it's a cool book.

This book is very special to me. I feel as though you could pick up this book at different times of your life and always take away something new from it, something to help you along the way.

Read this when it came out in ‘94, and re-read it now over 25 years later. Liked it then, like it even more now. Coupland just seems to capture thoughts and worries in both this and Gen X. The chapter on where you imagine you would be when the bomb drops is 80s and true. Characters who struggle to feel a great deal. Perhaps a hopeful ending, though I’ve still not found the need for God…

This one reads like a diary, kind of an aging Generation X. I strongly relate to it as I am slightly younger than Coupland. As Gen. X was exciting to read, being amazed by the connection of similar feelings and experiences of youth, L.A.G. was rather like comparing notes on the challenges of life at a high school reunion. The end has a little kernel of hope, and as with so many of the experiences and characters in the book, I had a remarkably similar naturo-mystical water thing only days before I read it. Perhaps I only give it a "C" is because it was rather like taking a magazine checklist quiz that you don't want to have a high score in, but...

Liūdna, bet labai reikalinga knyga. Ypač dabar.

Definitely one of my favorite books ever! I just love how this book is written, the small (and large) themes/messages it touches upon. It just stirs up something inside of me every time I read it. Excellent book!