Mini Review for a Sally Rooney Book that Professor Trashraf DNF

I read the first three chapters of this book during a slow day at work, in hopes that a bad book might alleviate my restlessness. Alas, this book is bad in a way that isn't even interesting. Its style is so (unintentionally) hilariously overwrought---not in a purple prose way, but in a way that overburdens the reader with details.

If Sally Rooney were to write the first sentence of this review, it would have looked like this:

"The person sat in a grey chair at a long counter, which was not ergonomic despite the library CEO's endless and intense fascination with interior design. This fact about the library CEO had been told to the person the day before by their coworker, a young woman with dark hair who was the only other employee born in the same year as the person. At twenty-eight minutes past eleven, the person suddenly rose from their chair and walked, in a peculiarly masculine fashion, to the bookcase displaying the library's popular reads. They selected a Sally Rooney title somewhat quickly, as if desperate for entertainment, then walked back to their desk, still in that peculiarly masculine fashion. They sat in the grey chair once more and placed the book upon the counter, then opened it to the back to read the author's biography. Then they opened it to the front to read the book's summary. Then they sighed, with the air of someone who is about to condemn himself to the gallows, and turned the page to chapter one."

Are you exhausted yet? Because I sure am. Either Sally Rooney never learned the concept of the author knowing more than they ever tell the reader, or she knows and is choosing to ignore it. There were also comma splices and no quotation marks. Both of these were stylistic choices that resulted in confusion rather than appreciation. Not to mention that this book is very obviously intended for a reader from a specific racial background and socioeconomic class; Ms Rooney is writing for people who walk into convenience stores and feel guilty about the poor immigrant who wrapped the pack of soda they're buying, not for people buying a snack after doing the wrapping themselves for a full shift.

Anyway, I'm going in search of another book instead. Or maybe I'll just run in place at my not-ergonomic desk.