Radical Anxiety Termination. I still don’t know how I was able to miss this concept on my first reading a year ago. Of course they call them “rats”… It’s brilliant and tragic. Here I am swallowing Lexapro and drinking whiskey to calm my mind, and Delany has written an institute that effectively de-humanizes individuals by permanently ridding them of anxiety. Is this really our common struggle?
Delany’s “rats” become slave labor for information conglomerates. They lack will, or the concern to respond to anything. They allow time to wash over their lives. And the follow orders to a fault.
The main focus is an un-named “rat” whose large body and acne-marred face make him the brunt of much criticism. He is assumed slow, stupid. He is a tragic hero whose untimely demise does not speak well for the novel to come.
There are a few things that intrigue me: the dangled masks that “men” wear, the glove which seems to me like a hyper-powered portable wikipedia, and the representation of sex.
And of course literature’s power to transform. As our “rat” reads the powerful words of obscure women his entire conception of the world is suddenly given context and interpretation. And his desire to return to the the box of cubed novels outweighs his pleasure in (and desire for) sexual orgasm.
Nothing beyond this recap to offer now.
Me and Mr. Jones 
Lexapro and daily whiskey does not sound like the G.J. I used to know. Sometimes those years seem like a furious race to realize something, followed by a thunderous shatter that echoes on and on.
Hopefully you understand that I am prone to hyperbole when it comes to the blog.I feel that your insightful words could reverberate in many contexts, but they also could have some acute meanings for some particular moments.