It's interesting...when I was young and started to fall in love with literature, it seemed like there was this great sense of living with zest and passion and, yes, danger (I certainly followed that path). Today, it feels like even the "counterculture" is all about safety, security, and comfort. Strange thing. I don't "blame" people for this. Not sure where the shift came in...but anyway, I liked this story a lot and feel the same about the absurdity of living with security and safety as your highest virtue. To each their own...but I just don't get it.