Pretty great, right? Very 90s. This is actually a fantastic book, and it's the only one I've ever read that is centered around a conference, so this is what I thought AWP would be like:
Then I discovered that the ceiling of the hotel foyer was a mass of mirrors, large and small. The entire confusion of folk was reflected there, upside-down, milling about, sort of hanging there mixed up with trees in urns and piles of suitcases. There were the three people with the baby again, passing the baby chair round from one to another so that they could hug someone they had just met.
It wasn't that inaccurate. I love this book. In among all the thinking about self and body and space and other and ekphrasis and the death of the author, I also still love the fantasy novels that I grew up with, which taught me worldbuilding and rulebreaking. And I think that's important—to have a narrative to come home to.