A Naked Singularity tells the story of Casi, a child of Colombian immigrants who lives in Brooklyn and works in Manhattan as a public defender-one who tellingly has never lost a trial. Never. In the book, we watch what happens when his sense of justice and even his sense of self begin to crack-and how his world then slowly devolves. It's a huge, ambitious novel clearly in the vein of DeLillo, Foster Wallace, Pynchon, and even Melville, and it's told in a distinct, frequently hilarious voice, with a striking human empathy at its center. Its panoramic reach takes readers through crime and courts, immigrant families and urban blight, media savagery and media satire, scatology and boxing, and even a breathless heist worthy of anycrime novel. If Infinite Jest stuck a pin in the map of mid-90s culture and drew our trajectory from there, A Naked Singularity does the same for the feeling of surfeit, brokenness, and exhaustion that permeates our civic and cultural life today. In the opening sentence of Gaddis' A Frolic of His Own, a character sneers, "Justice? You get justice in the next world. In this world, you get the law." A Naked Singularity reveals the extent of that gap, and lands firmly on the side of those who are forever getting the law

At issue is what will become of this grand edifice. We built it up and into the sky in the hopes of reaching heaven and now as it crumbles down around us we find that this great distance we thought we'd traveled can close in an instant. So what now? Because a person flung backward by adversity can run away in the direction flung, meekly stay put, or slowly, grudgingly, inch-by-inch until foot-by-foot begin the journey back whence he came to resume the struggle. — from Personae