We are phone fucked. Long run. Storm. Battery corroded. Fucked. Which means we are Instagram fucked. Which also means we are no photos of anything fucked, much less book covers. Say, that of Anamakee by the Garret Schuelke. But this might also make sense. Anamakee's protagonist Floyd Spicer is in fact fucked. Or he can't get unfucked anyway. School. Romance. Work. Family. It's all not happening. And it doesn't feel like it possibly can. What's not fucked is how well Schuelke captures the undulating discouragement and anger that washes over people caught-up in a world where there is no way up, or out, no matter how much one wants it to be so. In this way Anamakee reminds us of another book we recently read - Single Stroke Seven by the Lavinia Ludlow. One key difference is that Schuelke's people are lower middle-class and Ludlows are middle to upper middle-class, and while it feels that the latter should not somehow be drowing in such a similar state of anomie and lack of social control, that both are speaks to the state of the world these protagonists, and these writers, have grown-up in - one where no one can hope to do as well as their parents and there is no job waiting for them at the end of college, not one that will pay for your college debt anyway. It's all fucked. And by this standard, we shouldn't be complaining about corroded phones. The state of our phone is not going to change our lives or anyone else's. Anamakee though is a different story. It is sure to change your life, if only for a moment at that.