Then We Came to the End
A NoveleBook - 2007
From Library Staff
vpl_onlineinformation Oct 31, 2014
The Fear: Every day spent in your hole of an office is an exercise in meaninglessness.
vpl_informationservice Aug 27, 2014
Who is going next, how many and why? This novel, told in the collective voice of an entire advertising agency office, is a chillingly funny tale of working group behaviour and modern manners in the midst of life, death and a dreaded downsizing.
vpl_booksjustforyou Mar 18, 2013
Narrated in the collective “we”, "Then We Came to the End", tells the tale of a group of Chicago Advertising agency employees caught in the midst of a business down-turn. They deal with their anxieties as most employees do in a similar situation, through gossip, lengthy coffee breaks an... Read More »
From the critics
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And for those of you who think Lynn Mason in addition to cancer suffers from the disease talk shows diagnose as Needing a Man, if you think that's why she was parked outside Martin's office building, then you haven't yet understood the circumstances of Tuesday night, the forces at play that make her desperate and wanting in a way that is wholly unlike her... Self-sufficiency has always been her first and last commandment... It wasn't political, this headstrong determination to answer to no one, to achieve, to be the boss, to earn and sock it away ... It was personal. She did not care to hitch her wagon to anyone else, because she knew truth, happiness, success, all of what was deep and holy, was already present in the car with her. She just didn't have access to any of it tonight and wanted someone with her in the passenger seat. p.224
Some people would never forget certain people, a few people would remember everyone, and most of us would mostly be forgotten. Sometimes it was for the best ... But did anybody want to be forgotten about completely? We had dedicated years to that place, we labored under the notion we were making names for ourselves, we had to believe in our hearts that each one of us was memorable. And yet who wanted to be remembered for their poor taste or bad breath? Still, better to be remembered for those things than forgotten for your perfect parboiled blandness.
In other words, amnesty was a gift, but oblivion was terror.
We were fractious and overpaid. Our mornings lacked promise. At least those of us who smoked had something to look forward to at ten-fifteen... We thought that moving to India might be better, or going back to nursing school. Doing something with the handicapped or working with our hands. No one ever acted on these impulses, despite their daily, sometimes hourly contractions. Instead we met in conference rooms to discuss the issues of the day.
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