Eumeswil

I'm throwing in the towel at the half-way mark. This book is very, very dull. The narrator obscurely defends his fatalistic political stance as a sort of world-weary, aloof hedonism that really doesn't seem hedonistic so much as time-marking. Ideals are for the birds, there's no point in taking sides, atrocities or disasters don't really matter much in the big scheme of things, Hitler was just some guy who killed a lot of people and then himself and it makes no more sense to get upset about that than about a tsunami. It just goes on and on like that. There are no other characters that are allowed to take the stage and speak for themselves or be anything but specimens analyzed in the light of the narrator's tiresome theories. It's like reading [a:Mencius Moldbug|6893674|Mencius Moldbug|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1398110169p2/6893674.jpg] if Moldbug were even more long-winded but less engaging.