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What did I just read?
A cyberpunk fever dream?
A work of applied pessimism?
An (ultra-(ultra-(ultra(violent)))) psycho-sexual phantasmagoria dredged from the depths of the most depraved hell imaginable?
All of the above?
Certainly, the building blocks of a world-as-horror pessimism are all there that you would expect from the author of “On the Verge of Nothing: Pessimism’s Impossible Beyond.” Doom-squads proselytizing the futility of existence, in pitched battle against a small coterie of dreamers hoping against all odds to escape, to amputate their existence from the hell-earth that they inhabit.
But the extended, quasi-Lynchian fever prose that defies understanding weaves in and out, giving the work the character of a multi-wave acid-trip.
And then there’s the violence. Actually, violence is too soft a word. Truly, the psycho-sexual depictions in this book emanate from the deepest darkest nightmares that we dare not admit to ourselves, much less write down and share with the world. Unless your stomach is made of iron, stay far far away.