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Informationen zum Autor JUSTIN TAYLOR is the author of the novel The Gospel of Anarchy , the story collections Everything Here Is the Best Thing Ever and Flings ; and the memoir Riding with the Ghost , His work has appeared in The New Yorker , Harper’s , Bookforum , and the Oxford American . He is a contributing writer to The Washington Post Book World and the director of the Sewanee School of Letters. He lives in Portland, Oregon. Klappentext A NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW NOTABLE BOOK OF THE YEAR • A WASHINGTON POST NOTABLE BOOK OF THE YEAR A raucous and wickedly smart satire of Hollywood, toxic fandom, and our chronically online culture, following a washed-up actor on his quest to revive the cult TV show that catapulted him to teenage fame "A performance full of wit and rigor"— New York Times Book Review David Crader is a has-been. A former child actor from the hit teen drama Rev Beach , he now rotates between his new roles as deadbeat dad, recovering alcoholic, and occasional videogame voice actor. But when David is summoned to Los Angeles by Grace, his ex-wife and former co-star, he suddenly sees an opportunity for a reboot—not just of the show that made him famous, but also of his listless existence. Hollywood, the Internet, and a fractured nation have other plans, however, and David soon drinks himself to a realization: This seemingly innocuous revival of an old Buffy rip-off could be the spark that sets ablaze a nation gripped by far-right conspiracy, climate catastrophe, and mass violence. Reboot is a madcap speculative comedy for our era of glass-eyed doom-scrolling and Millennial nostalgia—and yet it’s still full of heart. It’s a tale of former teen heartthrobs, striving parents, internet edgelords, and fish-faced cryptids, for anyone who has looked back on their life and wanted—even if but for a moment—to hit “reset.” Leseprobe There were fires in the gorge outside of Portland and there were fires in the hills in LA. From the plane as we departed PDX I had seen the river of smoke flowing above the actual river and now, as we made our initial approach to LAX, I saw a slightly different version of the same thing over again: whole hills were missing, or their topmost reaches peeked out like islands from this other smoke. The flight attendant, a narrow-featured man with a soul patch, noticed my noticing this. He said, “It’s not as bad as it looks.” A breath. “Or it is but it isn’t, I mean it feels normal at this point, doesn’t it?” I nodded. “Still better than lockdown,” he continued. “Yes,” I said. “My business was closed nearly a year.” “Were you shooting a movie?” “I own a bar. A restaurant, really. A bar and restaurant.” “In LA?” “In Portland.” “Oh.” He asked if I wanted another drink before we landed. I said no. Thank you, but no. I was trying this new thing where I only drank in moderation. I know what that must sound like, and I admit that this wasn’t the first time that I was trying it, but hear me out. I wasn’t one of those people who couldn’t walk past a bar without ducking inside, or who counted down the minutes until the liquor store opened. I was never a morning or a maintenance drunk. I was capable of keeping bottles in the house, and sometimes when people offered me drinks I said no, No, thank you, not tonight. Saying no was simple, at least to the first round. My problem was—or rather, it had been—that once I said yes I wanted yes to last forever. Once I started, I didn’t stop. So I quit cold turkey. A few fits and starts there: one step forward, two back, you know how it goes. Two back, or three or four. Whatever. Then I tried AA, which went better, seemed to be working, but lockdown put an end to the meetings, and the Zoom version...
