Description The Book is not quite a novel, although almost half of it takes the form of a narrative, neither is it an essay, although quite a lot of what is said in it adopts that style.
It is actually closest to that rare type or para-genre of satirical prose embodied in the exemplary In Praise of Folly by the famous humanist from Rotterdam.
Instead of the Folly, of human manias and absurdities, here, in a similar kind of double-talk, the books themselves speak, those monuments to our intelligence, ambitions and self-importance, and they primarily speak by making an analogy between man's fate and that of books--to man's detriment, of course.