Tao Lin’s readership quantified him into fame at the end of this squalid century’s first decade when he stripped every literary conceit (abstracted lingual pretenses and absurdist Joy Williams / Lorrie Moore whimsies) from his work and governed the hip with a Gmail transcript they could all instantaneously relate to before turning thirteen. One method of throttling cliché is to be as incessantly literal as an online talkbalker. That is how Lin embarrasses his detractors: he repeats the terrible fact […]