I will be honest: I thought this was a weird girl story about a woman entering a spicy romantic affair with her copier. Like those books about being seduced by a firework, a deviled egg, or the Coronavirus? It was the cover and the title. I was down.

Instead, I got a vivid, evocative story about a young woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown who has become so dissociated from the world that her most meaningful day-to-day relationship is with her printer (not a copier). It is a portrait of depression, trauma, real and transactional relationships, feeling utterly isolated in a city full of people, and the burnout you can feel from perceiving the world as being on the brink of violence on a large or small scale at all times. It also touches on the morality of disposable culture, privilege blindness, and the perceived shame of being content with “menial” work and a life that is just enough for you.

It is a fine work of speculative fiction that may make you realize how often intrusive thoughts of violence impact your life (or not), as well as the smothering burden of trash waste and climate change. Oddly enough, it is also quite funny and charming.