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A brilliant modern-day take of Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway (although not the same story).
This book ends with a moral imperative that humbled me.
Ill leave you with this passage on the last page:
"That hunger is his claim on life, on a mental existence, and because it won't last much longer, because the door of his consciousness is beginning to close, he shouldn't pursue his claim from a cell, waiting for the absurdity of his trial to begin. This is his dim, fixed fate, to have one tiny slip, an error of repetition in the codes of his being, in his genotype, the modern variant of a soul, and he must unravel, another certainty Henry sees before him."
This book ends with a moral imperative that humbled me.
Ill leave you with this passage on the last page:
"That hunger is his claim on life, on a mental existence, and because it won't last much longer, because the door of his consciousness is beginning to close, he shouldn't pursue his claim from a cell, waiting for the absurdity of his trial to begin. This is his dim, fixed fate, to have one tiny slip, an error of repetition in the codes of his being, in his genotype, the modern variant of a soul, and he must unravel, another certainty Henry sees before him."