I’ve never had more fun when describing a book than I do with Caca Dolce, and that’s undoubtedly because it’s kind of impossible to accurately describe what it’s about. (Though I’ve certainly attempted to do exactly that here.) But here’s what reading it feels like: That rush you get after T.P.ing a neighbors house in the middle of the night. That creepy feeling you have the first time you use a Ouija board with friends and it seems to be saying something to you and you’re not doing anything to control the outcome—this time, anyway. That sensation you have when you have made a totally arbitrary, definitely nonsensical decision in your life—like that you’re never going to use spoons again—but you stick with it because it’s your decision, and that has to mean something, right?
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