The Drowned World (1962) by J.G. Ballard

TheDrownedWorld1…which you start on the couch, nose scrunched at the outmoded tone, then a chill settles in, so you swaddle yourself in a blanket, but that’s not enough, so you migrate to the bedroom and burrow beneath the comforters, but the bed feels scratchy, so you finish it submerged in the bath, towels draped over to capture the steam, and the book is disintegrating, but it’s no matter because your hands have become flippers…