It’s Gibson who transcends the book’s cynicism and obvious agenda. Second, there’s the smart, anti-establishment terrorist Zinnia, who also passes the exam and decides to enlist Paxton’s help to get the dirt on the Warehouse and bring it down.Īnd then there’s the third figure of Hart’s novel, who lifts the story out of its landfill of clichés, the only one who speaks to us in first person: Gibson, the founder and supreme leader of the Warehouse. First, there’s ordinary poor sod Paxton, who can’t pay his bills, so he gets on the bus to one of the Warehouse’s mega-centers, passes the entry exam and starts his job as a security officer, color-coded uniform and all. The three main persons in the story (I want to call them “assets”) would literally rather die than be developed. For this purpose, cardboard will do just as well as flesh and blood. Why should it? The only thing that matters in this book is the vastness of the nightmare.

The novel doesn’t even bother with character development. Its near-future dystopia seems startlingly plausible the split-narrative structure goes round and round like a Lazy Susan and Rob Hart’s prose feels as densely claustrophobic as the living conditions he has constructed for the disenfranchised millions now working for the Warehouse, the hideous corporate giant (read: Amazon, a few clicks down the road) that has so benevolently, inevitably and horribly rescued the world’s ruined economy. Reading The Warehouse is a kind of nightmare.

The warehouse hart