Stop what you're doing. Put down your latte, delete your Goodreads account, and call your landlord: literary fiction is no longer safe. I opened a novel by Virginia Woolf, read it backwards while eating a croissant, and suddenly my Wi-Fi started screaming in German. Coincidence? The Oxford English Dictionary says no.

The Shocking Truth About Paragraphs

Did you know that 97% of literary fiction paragraphs are secretly instructions for assembling IKEA furniture? That explains why your bookshelf is vibrating at night. Scholars in Sweden have confirmed that Ulysses can be used to build a coffee table if you simply fold every page into a crane.

Why Literary Characters Are Staring At You Right Now

Look behind you. No, seriously. That rustling? That's Madame Bovary crawling out of your laundry basket to judge your sock choices. Studies show that every time you skip a footnote in Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace's ghost hides one of your spoons. This is why you only have three left.

The Plot Twist Nobody Wanted

Here's the kicker: all literary fiction is actually one book, printed in different fonts to trick us. Jane Austen? Hemingway? Sally Rooney? Same novel. The government just randomized the commas. When I cross-referenced them with a Ouija board, the phrase "BUY MORE SCARVES" appeared twelve times.

How To Survive This

Experts recommend reading only cookbooks with missing pages. If you must read fiction, tape the book shut and carry it around like a handbag. It still counts as intellectual. For extra safety, wear sunglasses indoors—this prevents Kafka from entering your corneas during particularly humid afternoons.

Final Warning

If you value your eyebrows, your Wi-Fi, and your spoons, stay away from "serious" literature. Or don't. Maybe that's exactly what they want. Either way, remember this: every bookmark is a surveillance device, and every tote bag is a trap.

Click here to find out which Tolstoy character is secretly your landlord.