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Lin (Trip) continues his interest in real-life mystic Terence McKenna with the underwhelming story of a Lin-like New York City novelist facing a crossroads as he travels back and forth between New York City and Taipei. Shortly after Li's arrival in Taipei to visit his parents, he reconsiders having surgery on his concave chest, which he'd declined in the past, and becomes increasingly inspired by McKenna's views on psychedelics. "The world seemed more complex, terrible, hopeful, meaningful, and magical than he'd previously thought or heard," Lin writes of Li's reaction to McKenna's work. Back in Manhattan, Li battles intense back pain, writers block, dwindling finances, and loneliness. When in Taipei, he hopes to improve his health and cultivate artistic inspiration ("living with his parents felt slightly surreal in a way that was satisfying for both his life and his novel"). After a friend moves into his Manhattan building, a surprisingly tender romance blossoms between them. Much of the action and descriptions are banal, and aside from the romance, this feels a bit too detached and devoid of emotion for a book ostensibly about learning to live. Lin's fans might appreciate this, but it doesn't offer anything new. (Aug.)

Lin's new novel blends metafiction with commentary on modern medicine, with mixed results. As in much of Lin's fiction, the main character here appears to be a stand-in for the author: There's a reference to protagonist Li spending a decade "writing existential autofiction," and at one point he sends an email to his editor about "a nonfiction book on psychedelics" that sounds not unlike Lin's book Trip (2018). In that same email, Li writes a summary of events we read about earlier in the book--a visit to his parents in Taiwan--making this a work of autofiction that is in part about writing a work of autofiction. That isn't the only thread running through the book, however. Li is also coping with his parents' aging and his concern over their health, often via worrying about his father's consumption of statins and inveighing against the toxins found in store-bought coffee. Li also spends time consuming cannabis and/or LSD, and some of the novel's highlights come from passages that reflect a transcendent state of consciousness. "The city's artificial lights, zooming by on cars, floating past on lamps, seemed pretty and affecting as near, teary stars." Elsewhere, the prose can feel clunky or overly expositional--particularly an aside telling the reader that Wikipedia "aggregated the mainstream." And a subplot about the growing relationship between Li and Kay, an editor, includes an email from Li which feels far too candid: "People used to do enemas a lot, it seems, but now they do it less, maybe due to fear of butts/poop." Li's interactions with his parents are unpredictable; the rest of this novel, however, feels oddly detached. Ambitious in some places and quotidian in others. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.