Gospodinov flits and buzzes among various subjects - from graffiti in public toilets to the movies of Quentin Tarantino - in this tale of a young Bulgarian writer who decides to create his own version of a and "natural novel and " assembled from the bits and pieces of everyday life. At its center is a poignant story about the narrator's divorce and the fact that he isn't and "the author and " of his soon-to-be-ex-wife's pregnancy. Maybe he's suffering from attention deficit disorder; maybe he's just stuck with a skewed if stoic appreciation of life's messy flux. Whatever the cause, his monologue turns into a quirky, compulsively readable book that deftly hints at the emptiness and sadness at its core.(Anderson Tepper, The New York Times)