I snagged this book from my library’s express shelf because it sounded like a hilarious satire on the lengths people will go to feel alive and cross things off the bucket list, perhaps with an undertone of scathing criticism of how a culture toxic masculinity convinces men they can be more manly by hunting and / or killing, preferably under extreme duress and / or in extreme conditions, even / especially if this endeavor means refusing to acknowledge its adverse impact on the environment, ecosystem, and endangered animals. What a hilarious and timely subject for a comedic novel! Two men in a tiny boat trying to kill a shark and get drunk by consuming some alien part of its innards!
And then I got it home and realised it was not a novel at all, but a non-fiction account of an endeavor which really happened. It’s dead serious. There’s no criticism here! There’s no comedy! Abort!
(I returned it to the library two days later.)