Trotsky works for a neuromarketing company that scans his brain to test new products. Only his name isn't really Trotsky -- that's a code name he's forced to use. And the products aren't real -- they're hologram prototypes. Trapped in an increasingly unreal world that leaves him haunted by hallucinations, Trotsky goes to accident scenes at night in search of something genuine. Instead, he finds Holiday, a wannabe actress who fakes accidents for insurance settlements but who dreams of stardom. She leads him into an underground society of anti-corporate activists who live in a forgotten space in a mall. But when an encounter with a troubled cop turns deadly, the group is discovered by the media and dubbed the "Warhol Gang." At first Holiday and Trotsky embrace their notoriety, but they're forced to confront their own desires -- and differences -- when the gang takes on a life of its own and the body count rises. The Warhol Gang is an absurdist tale for an age of absurdism, a black comedy for anyone who's ever been trapped in an endless mall or fantasized about killing everyone in the office.
Peter Darbyshire is the award-winning author of Please and The Warhol Gang, as well as too many short stories to list here. You can learn more about Peter Darbyshire at www.peterdarbyshire.com.
This book felt like I was witnessing an acid trip by reading about it. It was weird, really weird.
I read the reviews on the back of the book before reading the story and saw things like, 'satire', quoted. I didn't find any satire qualities in it at all. Unless my understanding of the term is wrong, but there was no comedic parts. Not satire or otherwise. Zip. Zilch. Nada.
It reminded me of that movie, Six Degrees of Separation, only odder and forever separated. It just never came together for me.
I like the gruesome nature of the story. I just wish the majority wasn't so strange.
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