Here’s my favourite passage from Nicholson Baker’s ‘The Mezzanine’, which is one of the most interesting books I’ve ever read.
And this was when I realised abruptly that as of that minute (impossible to say exactly which minute), I had finished with whatever large-scale growth I was going to have as a human being, and that I was now permanently arrested at an intermediate stage of personal development. I did not move or flinch or make any outward sign. In fact, once the first shock of raw surprise had passed, the feeling was not unpleasant. I was set: I was the kind of person who said “actually” too much. I was the sort of person who stood in a subway car thinking about buttering toast – buttering raisin toast, even;: when the high, crisp scrape of the butter knife is muted by occasional contact with the soft, heat blimped forms of the raisins, and when if you cut across a raisin, it will sometimes fall right out, still intact though dented, as you lift the slice. I was the sort of person whose biggest discoveries were likely to be tricks to applying toiletries while fully dressed. I was a man, but I was not nearly the magnitude of man I had hoped I might be.