After listening to Monica Ali read this story for the New Yorker, I really feel like I need to read Joshua Ferris's work.
As Ali discusses after her reading, it is actually kind of difficult to make out whether the hero of the short story is, in fact, a hero. Really, one of the nagging elements is the feeling you're missing something. It's kind of like the feeling you have when you're talking to a couple and have accidentally stumbled upon an issue that causes them to fight. You didn't know it was coming, but there it is. And it's awkward. In fiction form, this is tantalizing. (In real life, you wish you could find the right words to make a polite exit.)
Has anyone read The Unnamed?