I’m pretty cynical to begin with, but even I don’t have the kind of bleak nihilism it takes to enjoy a book like Userlands, the new fiction anthology edited by Dennis Cooper. (And this from someone who, in his darkest moments, reads the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche.) Here, angst reigns supreme, often spiced up by unerotic sex and characters who relish their own sense of worthlessness. The stories aren’t necessarily boring, but they often read like pale imitations of Bret Easton Ellis; his influence runs through most of these pages.

In the end, Userlands is a victim of its own aspirations: it aims to be a modern alternative to the “gentrified, conservative, and economics-driven” state of publishing—and in this respect, it certainly succeeds—but many of its contributors are so self-conscious, often opting for manipulation rather than any sense of emotion, that their writing immediately becomes stale and cringe-inducing. Yes, the world is a nasty, dirty place, filled with creeps and losers, but that doesn’t mean I want a book like Userlands bathing me in society’s come.