Whom is a young man to call upon to share his yearning for a simpler, more natural life? The narrator appeals to the Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski, whose deranged Santa Claus image transfixed him as a boy and whose terminal anti-tech vendetta now captivates him in these ever-more-simulated days.

Having procured the Unabomber’s inmate address from the Internet, the narrator uncaps his pen and starts writing letters. Lots of them. Letters about college that feels like glorified obedience training; about the prospect of mediocre careerism sitting on his head like an obese girlfriend; about relationships guided by fashion-magazine tips; about the conservation land where he puffed his first joint being paved over for luxury housing; about his best friend gradually opting for more cyber-chat and less real-life interaction . . .

With humor, self-deprecation, and irony that are only intensified by despair, Dear Mr. Unabomber explores the barrenness and slavish conformity running ghostlike in circles of the MySpace hell. When you have no one else to turn to, Ted Kaczynski must become your BFF.

Illustrated by the author