"Embittered, rude, apathetic, resentful of the success and happiness of others and intellectually snobbish, he's a 48-year-old aspiring writer who makes ends meet, just about, working in an independent bookshop in a gentrifying part of LA. He worries about turning 50 having made nothing of his life. He notes, lugubriously, that he barely seems to get any writing done and that having no gift for plot, characterisation or prose the novel he claims to be trying to produce will be lousy anyway."
"He keeps bumping into old friends whose books are being published by hip independent presses or who have acquired nice girlfriends, or both. His teeth are in bad shape. He rails against the gentrification of the neighbourhood by large corporations and sheeplike hipsters. And he rages, above all, against the customers in the bookshop, who ask him stupid questions, buy copies of trendy books he considers bad, ask for directions to the toilets, insist on paying by credit card, block up the aisles"
Sean Hangland is a 48-year-old aspiring writer eking out a living in an independent bookshop in a gentrifying Los Angeles neighborhood. He is embittered, rude, apathetic, resentful of others' success, and intellectually snobbish, fretting about turning fifty with nothing to show. He believes he lacks talent for plot, characterisation, and prose and expects his own novel to be lousy. He repeatedly encounters former friends with publishing success or satisfying relationships. He fixates on corporate-driven gentrification and displays sustained hostility toward customers, provoking complaints and managerial reprimands that deepen his bitterness. Occasional moments of interest punctuate the monotony.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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