Book version of Mad God, speedrun of upsetting imagery, loose plot of a hellish dystopia. Auditory accompaniment. The only semblance of plot is that the Woman With Language All Over Her Body keeps getting bigger and bigger.

Overuse of the word "conceit", and a few other typos (your you're) that should've been caught. Devoid of any emergent plot, the shock factor loses its punch. Went online to see what other ppl thought about this book and someone said "the rhythm of his prose" was bad (in so many words) and that's pretty on point. Stilted, meandering, but not in a seemingly-intentional way. Stupid math, plus/minus one to infinity (wooooow, scary)

Before turning the lever off, she brings her face down to the eye and sucks her fill. Her head ecomes this paragraph.

lol

There's also very little variation from ¶ to ¶. It just starts at maximally offensive/shocking/graphic and pretty much hovers there, diluting its own impact with each passing page

¶ 102 is good as a standalone:

Smashed up section of all previous behind-the-scenes scenes tolerated in this iteration of reformat appear laid out on a digital sea table under sky so low there is just barely enough room for an average sized adult (pre cranial swelling) to whimper their way between like a worm in lust. Every hour on the hour (corrupted timecode), a captive is released into the simulation and allowed to attempt to organize the tiles into the proper chronological order (not necessarily as it apppears in final). A successful attempt will result in a the complete reset of the universe scenario. A failed attempt will generate an additional century of ignorance and vioence applied to the backlog of human experience and result in the removal of the contestant from all forms of inter-notation. Captives are selected by a committee of unnamed forces based on the measure of reading comprehension score plotted against intolerance of moral abstraction. Selected captives cannot abjure and must be unrememberd from all future associative circulation schedules. A complete derangement of effects will be revealed only to those who care.

This is a good sampling of what the rest of the book is like, but there's usually a more wounds, excrement, ejaculate, and sobbing, and less plot/device/anything other than description

Meatspace

I think this book increased the ceiling for how bad of a bad-trip I could have now, but simultaneously it desensitized me to most of the things that –for the first few paragraphs– came across as disturbing.

John Trefry seems to take great pride in his typesetting (for this and Anamnesis and his own work, Massive amognst others) however, the margins look like shit... Also ¶ 156 is messed up. Get it together, John!

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