Mommy, am I cult?

This is one of the best short story collections I read and, by far, my best book from Netgalley.

To put it simply, the writing is delicious. It has spirit and critique. Sometimes it gets judgy, and sometimes it gets heartbreakingly empathetic. From the first paragraph, I knew I found a hidden jewel: after I read this, I found myself closer to my human peers, more privy to their inner insecurities (and how those relate to mine) than judgmental of their shortcomings. This is what "high literature" should be all about.

...the reason he was interviewing her, and not he other way around, the requisite Master's degree in social work prominently displayed on the wall. Never once spending a day at the poverty line, but rich in the political acumen that people like her lacked to market themselves to the powers that bestowed big money.

His head was lowered. Preoccupied, I wondered? Or with the affectionate, mockexasperation of the duty-bound father?

The kind of guy [who was] was small town loser-boy who couldn't make it in the big city, stubbornly clinging to hard rock bands that no one listened to anymore, his hard luck stories and his victim's sense of entitlement.

This kind of book is why I became a reader in the first place.