Or, more appropriately, deja lu. The cover art looked familiar, and so did many of the words. But, I didn't recognize the random part from later in the book that I turned to, so I thought I must have read the opening excerpt online or something. Then I hit a part that had particularly bothered me the first time around, and realized what I'd suspected earlier: I've already read this one, it just didn't make enough of an impression for me to be absolutely sure I'd already read it. But, now that I've reread this really offensive part and the totally bizarre ending, I remember it. And am reminded why I was expecting that I might not finish the new one. Which, according to the author's website, is coming out in May.
Disappointing, but frees me up to move on to another book. Tomorrow, Life of the Buddha in the Morning, and maybe I'll start Perdido Street Station in the afternoon.
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