If and when I wake up to all the money I have spent ever then I would buy every one of you your very own copy of this book. And maybe if you had enough time you might start to read it.
Because The People of Paper is a thing of beauty—both as an object and novel—written by Salvador Plascencia and published by McSweeney's. Plascencia tells a story that blends ancestral and personal mythology to show the effects of both loss (familial and not) and of conflict.
Depending upon your tolerance and exposure to magical realism and metafiction, you may or may not enjoy this book.
I do not want to say anything more other than that you should expect to take the title literally. And expect symbolism, bed wetting, mechanical tortoises, limes and lime addiction.
I lent this book to a girl who I tried to give my heart to and she refused the latter and gave me back the former after telling me There is nothing growing here, in the space between she and me she found it too cutesy or pretentious or something. Later my copy was lost in a frantic move, which seemed fitting as the frame story centers upon a man and his daughter moving from Las Tortugas, Mexico to LA.
You should read this book when it finds you. Except not in any electronic format—even if you wanted to, you cannot. This book is not compatible with that junk.