This isn't exactly a non-fiction review. You see, the book in question, The Diminishment of Scale is a mere idea I had. So instead of writing the book, I wrote the elegiac review (thereby skipping a whole load of hard work); now presented for your pleasure.
An adventure of epic reduction, of growing simplicity and final singularity, The Diminishment of Scale is a pilgrimage starting in the mythic rural heartland of childhood, a record of the path of ignorance towards the end of innocence.
It is a journey from fantasy to fact, finishing at the elegance of self; final, complete, unchanging.
From dragons, knights and castles, the story descends to mundane reality; a half-empty room, a sad bundle of hopes and dreams, the death of narrative, a writer.
Like life itself, The Diminishment of Scale belongs in two worlds. The first is driven by nostalgia for narrative, fictional, inspirational, insipid. The second is forward-looking, wracked by uncertainty, contradiction, and the knowledge of the one sure thing awaiting us: the inescapable loneliness at the end of the road.



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