Meet Corbin Moore, a twenty-something lapsed writer whose job at a struggling, off-brand spiritualist bookshop in Seattle meshes well with his regimen of smoking cannabis, binge eating, and doom-watching the news. That rut is interrupted by the return of his overbearing mother, Geraldine, a famous self-help guru who's looking for a guinea pig. Add in the daily deluge of Corbin's deep-seated insecurities and body dysmorphia, the prospect of reunion with still beloved ex-girlfriend Beth, and nonstop harassment by a murder of near-murderous crows, and you get a person most in need of help--but from whom, and how?
Sharply funny and surprisingly tender, Daniel Pope's debut asks the question: What if we're not broken in all the ways the prophets of American self-help say we are? This book is for all the people self-improvement leaves behind.
About the Author :
Daniel Pope is a writer and musician from Seattle. His work has appeared in Narrative Magazine, Bellevue Literary Review, Gulf Coast Journal, and elsewhere. He currently lives in the UK, where he is a doctoral candidate at the University of Manchester's Centre for New Writing.
Review :
"Corbin Taylor Moore, the Seattle-based anti-hero narrator of Daniel Pope's rollicking debut, is a weed-smoking, pill-popping, self-critiquing twenty-something experiencing something of a mid-life crisis. It doesn't help that his mother, a famous self-help author, barely understands him, that he struggles to connect with his coworkers or soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, or that a crow hauntingly appears the day of his crash-out, followed by a murder of crows as events progress. A brilliant send-up of our contemporary late neoliberal moment, Go Help Yourself captures the vicissitudes of Millennial life today and brings a vibrant new literary voice to readers."
-- John Keene, National Book Award winner and author of Counternarratives: Stories & Novellas
"A deadpan, mordant, thoroughly entertaining coming-of-age novel about what it takes to truly see oneself clearly. Go Help Yourself is a singular debut, and Daniel Pope is one to watch."
-- Kirstin Chen, New York Times-bestselling author of Counterfeit
"Part nightmarish mother-son chronicle and part satisfying slacker novel, Go Help Yourself is also a memorable story about the limits of control. Pope is unafraid to roam into complicated psychological territory, but his story somehow comes out the other side, resulting in a moving, funny, and ultimately hopeful novel."
-- Gabe Habash, author of Stephen Florida
"Original, hilarious . . . Daniel Pope's debut novel takes the pulse of contemporary youth malaise and finds it galloping with hopes and schemes despite a lot of evidence that life is rough. I loved every word of it."
-- Alice Elliott Dark, author of Fellowship Point and In the Gloaming
"Go Help Yourself is the kind of debut novel that I love--exuberant, inventive, and unafraid of risk or excess. It's a testament to Daniel Pope's voice and vision that even at Corbin Moore's lowest, loneliest points, his story hums with hope and brims with life."
-- Chris Bachelder, author of The Throwback Special
"Wildly entertaining, Go Help Yourself pierces through all the sanctimony of the self-help industry with humor and grace. Daniel Pope holds a mirror to how we see ourselves and others, forcing us to reckon with uncomfortable truths. A necessary voice in this digital age of optimization."
-- Akil Kumarasamy, author of Meet Us by the Roaring Sea
"Go Help Yourself is a greathearted debut--full of livin', laughin', lovin', and other poignant anti-life lessons."
-- Bud Smith, author of Mighty
"A spirited, rollicking picture of our culture's tangled messaging around real life, inner life and aspirational life--and one with a beautiful, beating heart. Daniel Pope has nailed the coming-of-age narrative for a moment when the old world is dying and the new struggles to be born--and he does it with preternatural grace and breathtaking insight into the pleasures and pains of embodied life under late capitalism."
--Alexandra Kleeman, author of You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine
