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Abe at his discordant best, The Box Man contains a main narrative, sub narratives and those that may appear related and unrelated, a meditation on identity and perhaps on the subtle loss of it's authenticity, the book slides into territories at times that feel out of reach to the reader, but Abe does it so well, and after putting the book down it can feel very much like you are looking back at a collage of narratives, some fitting, some detached, the completed and uncompleted. Very much enjoyed this book, as with the wife's flat with yellow curtains in The Ruined Map, which felt like a solid and reliable landmark within the narrative landscape here the soy sauce factory seemed to float up as Abe's narrative drags us around the themes he wanted to pull us through, will no doubt remain fascinating after multiple reads.