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Each scene also contains introductions penned by Gillis that Sotos uses to give private context to the brain of the man from which the language peels. These introductions allow Gillis to reveal himself in ways even the scenes of him masturbating and barking at the women don’t. He speaks by turns in quips of a businessman, a director, a bigot, an abuser, and a louse who’s aware he’s a louse, with a kind of dumbass honesty that spins the whole thing with such a strange layer you almost forget that this is real. The further and deeper the dialogue extends, wholly unblinking, the more the reader feels as if the beginning of the book is wired to its end, a machine forced to eat itself. I don’t quite know how to say this, but by the end of the book you feel not quite densensitzed to the ideas, but covered in them.
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