An Exceptionally Simple Theory (of Absolutely Everything) | General Fiction
Tracy lifts a Botoxed lip, shakes her head, minces off on her Louboutins, descends the stairs like a cautious antelope. Gabe is lying on his unmade bed with his arms crossed, glaring at the ceiling, iPod pummelling those so-fragile, once-perfect membranes in his ears. If you look at the maths of it, 3(½) ≠ us. Somewhere, there’s more, has to be more than the pieces of ourselves which we present to each other.
Chris Hayes is a Capetonian architect, about to turn forty. He has one leg, and a squirrel problem. He also has a beautiful wife obsessed with staying that way, a dyslexic teenage son, and a business partner on at him to cash in on BEE deals. But it takes a visit to his dying mother to give Chris the push to examine his nagging sense of discontent, and to lead him into a past he’s never considered and a future he doesn’t expect.
An Exceptionally Simple Theory (of Absolutely Everything) is about having everything you want and little of what you need. It’s about being adopted, yet putting down roots; about growing older, maybe growing up; and what might transpire when the rhythms of a suburban life are disturbed.