The details in the first 10 chapters (as far as I got) just make me wonder about the authors headspace.
It reminds me of a friend talking about her neighbors in portland suburbs that basically locked themselves in their house and had groceries delivered because they became so paranoid about the “riots” in the streets of Portland they saw on fox news. One of them died a year into it and they were convinced everyone was out to get them (just like this book).
I should have known for sure earlier, when the kid’s love interest got a lady-boner for the lift kit on his old chevy, or. the way it describes gear like a preper catalog, my last straw was the insinuation that gang members with meaningless tattoos (unklike his noble army tattoos) had taken over durango since recreational marijuana reform and they were out to loot his shop.
Just so painfully lazy. don’t know how this book has such a high good reads score, but I guess there are many with this type of paranoia