Reading Log, no. 6-5

The austerity measures began in the lobby, with the flowers and bowls of candy. Benny liked to smell the flowers. "I miss the nice flowers," he said. Then we got an officewide memo taking away our summer days. "I miss my summer days even more than the flowers," he remarked. At an all-agency meeting the following month, they announced a hiring freeze. Next thing we knew, no one was receiving a bonus. "I couldn't give a damn about summer days," he said, "but my bonus now, too?" Finally, layoffs began. "Flowers, summer days, bonuses -- fine by me," said Benny. "Just leave me my job."

Joshua Ferris
Then We Came to the End

Finally, a book that exposes white collar employment for the adult day care that it is. Or so I thought while reading Then We Came to the End, which is yet another work of fiction dealing with the absurdities of office work.

And so I enjoyed this book, although really it's kinda lame. I could never figure out if author Joshua Ferris actually is properly cynical of our modern economy or instead whether it's impossible not to write something damning of white collar employment if one writes anything about it at all. Perhaps the excellent bits of cynicism in Then We Came to the End are merely the emergent consequences of describing a system that is beyond redemption.

Probably the most important thing is that the book is funny, and humor is the only effective vehicle for negativity.

There was so much unpleasantness in the workday world. The last thing you ever wanted to do at night was go home and do the dishes. And just the idea that part of the weekend had to be dedicated to getting the oil changed and doing the laundry was enough to make those of us still full from lunch want to lie down in the hallway and force anyone dumb enough to remain committed to walk around us. It might not be so bad. They could drop food down to us, or if that was not possible, crumbs from their PowerBars and bags of microwave popcorn would surely end up within an arm's length sooner or later. The cleaning crews, needing to vacuum, would inevitably turn us on our sides, preventing bedsores, and we could make little toys out of runs in the carpet, which, in moments of extreme regression, we might suck on for comfort.

Thanks Mr. Ferris for the good read, but I won't be actively looking for anything of yours in the future.

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So concludes Reading Log no. 6.