Headcheese

by Jess Hagemann

The day that Lorrie “accidentally” cuts off her little toe, she discovers what it’s like to be able-bodied and not want that body.

After Bartholomew loses his left arm to a Sunni sniper, he’s inspired to start a new kind of church―one where both amputation and sex are types of performance art.

Trice, a prosthetics engineer, receives the assignment of a lifetime when he’s asked to rebuild his son’s crippled frame.

Haunted by the memory of his dead wife, George must take the ultimate measure to excise her ghost. For good.

From sexual fetish to the clinical diagnosis of Body Integrity Identity Disorder, Headcheese makes the first cut, peeling back the epidermis to peer inside the minds and hearts of 26 people navigating the topography of flesh.

Jess Hagemann is an award-winning author and accomplished biographer. She lives in a quiet Austin neighborhood surrounded on three sides by cows. Headcheese is her first novel.

Genres: Horror, Short Stories, Fiction

316 pages, Paperback

First published December 18, 2018

About the author

Jess Hagemann’s recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Beneath the Bluebonnets: Tales of Terror from Texas Women, Three Seasons of Winter, and Last Girls Club, among others. Her debut novel Headcheese (2018) won an IPPY Award in Horror. Paste Magazine named her sophomore novel Mother-Eating, which marries Marie Antoinette and cults, one of the “Most-Anticipated Horror Books of 2025.” Jess received her MFA from the Jack Kerouac School, and has been awarded a teaching fellowship at McNeese State University as well as a writing residency at Dear Butte. She lives in Austin.

More at www.jesshagemann.com.

Reviews

[Michael Hicks · Rating 5 out of 5]

Headcheese might be one of the most fascinating and simultaneously disturbing novels I've read in quite some time. Jess Hagemann takes a mosaic approach to her exploration of amputation, giving us a richly diverse cast, many of whom are seeking to become whole by removing parts of themselves or who have turned the loss of limb or organ into a sexual fetish.

There's Lorrie, who "accidentally" cut off her toe as a child and, now, as an adult wants nothing more than to have her leg removed. Bartholomew, aka Captain Hook, lost his arm to a sniper in the Middle East, but discovered that his body is all the more whole because of it. He wants to help others find themselves by granting them the gift of amputation, performing dismemberment as a ritualized performance piece in underground art exhibits for cultish followers. George suffers from tinnitus and only wants the constant ringing to stop, while Trice, a prosthetics engineer, discovers he has a son damaged by war and is given the opportunity to rebuild both their lives.

Headcheese is presented with an almost journalistic detachment, with Hagemann presenting herself as a documentarian of these people's stories, occasionally providing her own asides and reflections. At times it's easy to forget that Headcheese is fiction, it feels so real, its characters and their experiences carrying the richness of authenticity. Hagemann presents the occasional detour, though, into full-fledged moments of body horror that remind you that no matter how realistic its depiction of Body Integrity Identity Disorder and real-world inspirations, this book is still largely the product of its author's imagination. One minor vignette revolves around a doctor performing a post-mortem head transplant that's clearly, thankfully, fictitious. Another segment of self-mutilation, though, feels startlingly, painfully, gaspingly realistic, made all the more powerful, and worse for it, thanks to the almost clinical detachment Hagemann assumes in writing of the removal. I suspect, readers, you'll know the scene I'm referring to when you get to it, and I'm sure you'll find yourself squirming just as much.

I'm curious to see what other readers' reactions to this book will be and where their sympathies will lie based on the questions raised throughout this narrative. Is Body Integrity Identity Disorder a psychological disorder than can be cured, or is it closer in experience to being transgender? In much the same way transsexuals seek sex reassignment surgery to alter their bodies to more closely match their gender identity, do we readily accept the medical necessity of somebody who feels they were born with unneeded arms or legs? While I found it easy to empathize with amputees, I must admit that it felt odd at times to sympathize with, at times even root for, people who want and even physically need their limbs removed, even as I felt aghast at their actions as they take matters into their own hands.

For all the straightforwardness of its narration, Headcheese inspires a number of complicated thoughts and emotions surrounding issues of bodily autonomy and ownership versus psychological damage. What is normal and what do we accept as normal? How much of a laissez faire attitude do we take when it comes to an individual's willful demands to be amputated in order to feel more complete and healthy? Hagemann gives her readers here plenty to think about, challenging us repeatedly along the way, but most especially in its aftermath. Headcheese is unique, both in its topic of exploration and execution, but also most certainly important thanks to the potential for discussions it can and should generate. Read it!

[Note: I received an advance reading copy of Headcheese from its publisher, Cinestate.]

[Sadie Hartmann · Rating 5 out of 5]

Review in SCREAM mag coming

[Jim Coniglio · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don't think I have ever had such trouble starting a review on a book. I finished HEADCHEESE by Jess Hagemann and then sat with it rolling around in my head for a few days as I thought about its message. This book did hit close to home for me. I am amputee. I lost a leg to traumatic injury just over 18 years ago. The thought of someone wanting to voluntarily have a healthy limb removed just baffles me. I have been through multiple operations and therapies and would not wish it on anyone. Yet there are people in the world who do just that, and this book takes a look inside the life of these individuals.

The book deals with a very real mental illness called Body Integrity Identity Disorder. This disorder makes a person want to have a body part amputated because they feel it is not really a part of them. Like looking at your arm and feeling that it is just not right and wanting it gone. A person can go from trying to have it removed by a doctor to the more extreme cases of DIY at-home-amputations with electric saws and other devices.

HEADCHEESE is a very well written story that is part character narrative and part info dump from the author. Now, that term is not meant in a bad way, Jess Hagemann covers a lot of topics through the course of the book. Interwoven with the ongoing story, she adds story background, history lessons, news stories and more. The book jumps page to page with some pages only having 2 sentences on them, while others could be 3 pages of ongoing story. It didn't bother me, but some readers might find it off-putting. I found myself reading large chunks at a time and finishing the book in 2 days. The main story-line has an amazing 26 characters. Some are not given much attention at all, but the main few like Lorrie, Bartholomew, Trice and George carry the story along. The author has a great way of weaving the story elements together until everyone at some point has crossed paths with each other. The author does not hold back in her descriptions of amputations and other bloody events. I really enjoyed reading some of the informative tidbits and real life stories that are peppered every few pages.

There are also illustrations by Chris Panatier scattered throughout the book. Some are fairly tame while others are down right cringe worthy.

HEADCHEESE gives us a deep look inside the lives of a group of people dealing with Body Integrity Identity Disorder. At time it can be a terrifying display of raw body horror, made more disturbing by the fact that these are incidents that could be, and have taken place in the real world.

HEADCHEESE is definitely not a book for everyone and at times can be very difficult to read. Everyone is bound to take away something different from the story. Myself, being an amputee, found it very interesting that this could really be happening out there, even though the thought of it still upsetting to me deep down inside. In the end tho, I would recommend that you read this book. The story is intriguing, but the background information and thoughts from the author make this book shine even more.

This is one book that could spark some interesting debates between readers. Do we look at the sanctity of the human body and condemn people suffering from BIID for their actions, or is it a personal choice issue like sexual orientations and gender identity? This is an issue that really has not been addressed like some other disorders, but HEADCHEESE open the door to discussion. It's up to you, the reader, if you will step inside.

[Ross Jeffery · Rating 5 out of 5]

An astonishing book.

I came to this book knowing absolutely nothing about it, I bought it for the cover alone. I know never judge a book by its cover, but with Headcheese you can - it’s a beast of a book and is so well written it’s incredible to think this is a debut. Gage man smashes this out of the park, and we may have an heir to Chuck Palahniuk with her no nonsense approach and also her unwavering commitment to put across taboo subjects with such beauty and horror and in doing so making her words poetic and full of passion.

It’s beautifully horrific and I absolutely loved it - it’s now up there in my top 10 books of all time, it’s incredible and I champion every person to read this most beguilingly disturbing book. A masterpiece of epic proportions and horrific intent!

Get it now!

[Toby · Rating 4 out of 5]

HeadCheese is probably going to be the hardest book I’ll ever choose to review. I don’t even have a clue where to begin. I only recently found out about the book, two sentences into the blurb and I knew I had to get this.

I love weird, bizarre, gross, fetishy books, and this book hit literally every point I was looking for. The writing is unreliable, it's got a nonsense approach to how the...book plays out, it felt like I was reading one of my fever dreams.

There’s a large cast of characters listed before you begin the book, which was incredibly helpful when reading because I probably skipped back to that list over fifty times, trying to remember who was who & who did what. There’s a few ‘main’ characters throughout the book who were easily memorable, but the whole cast brought something to the book, and connected to the story in important ways.

I found Headcheese to also be very informative. Yes, I was reading about amputee fetishists, cannibals, war veterans with PTSD, but there were chapters that were non-fiction, which also included footnotes at the bottom of the page, which I was using very frequently to research on my own. (For example, I’ve not shut up for the past day about Miracle Mike, who was a headless chicken that survived for 18 months without its head. I now know more chickens that I did yesterday)

There were also so many references to real life crimes that were committed, Horror movie references (They even used Lost River as a reference, which I barely ever see being spoken about), quotes taken from a popular fetish website that's used by thousands. They mingled in so well with that arcs of the characters, and never felt unneeded.

I have never read something so weird, fascinating and intriguing before. There is also art scattered throughout the book, which was absolutely gorgeous, and helps readers picture what Hagemann was trying to create with their writing.

Headcheese is engrossing, it’s confusing, strange...I could probably give several examples of how much this book left me in a trance from start to finish. It’s filthy, factual and was an absolute blast to read.

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[Alan · Rating 2 out of 5]

I read this after asking Reddit to recommend me disturbing or weird or interesting books.

And yes, this is all of those things...but it isn't good . It's mainly cheap, unsubtle shock value without a lot of connective tissue holding it together. The prose is absolutely awful, and the unnecessary footnotes and weird phrasing do not help (why say "Chuck P." when we all know who you mean?).

Speaking of Palahniuk, Hageman here echoes (more like copies) all of his worst characteristics--bad prose, lack of visual detail, mean-spirited writing. Shit dude, I almost feel bad ragging on this book so hard, but at least Fight Club had something original to say.

Seriously, this premise is interesting and could easily have made for some good body horror, but it seems like the writer wasn't even trying to do anything interesting with it, opting instead to just point and laugh at the flat, dull characters without really delving into the implications of what they're doing. This reads like a greentext story stretched out to 400 pages.

This is so schlocky that I honestly made a new account to review it to keep my sister from having to see that I bought a copy of this book.

[Alicia Rios · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was different from anything else I've read and I found it challenging and insightful! It took me a minute to get used to the unconventional format of the book because Headcheese is not written in chapters or from just one point of view. Instead, you're dabbling into different worlds and contexts right from the start... snippets of scenes, conversations and thoughts are spread out among the pages, and later the stories of these different lives begin to merge. The author intermingles real conversations and events into the story, along with tons of interesting facts and tidbits, which I found brings a tangibility to the themes and characters. The pages are filled with vivid imagery and a sense of humanity that left me feeling by the end of the book that these people were rather relatable, or that at the very least, their thoughts, desires, and fears seemed less alien, even almost normal. Loved learning about something I knew almost nothing about!

[alexis · Rating 2 out of 5]

I feel like I would’ve loved this book when I was 17, but as an adult I mostly just rolled my eyes a lot. I saw that the author cites Chuck Palahniuk as a major influence, and it was just like…yeah…I can tell.

I also saw that the author did a 2019 interview where the host tried to bring up the fatphobia in the book - specifically the section where the author talks in first person about being disgusted by a man at her gym because he’s fat. It’s a pretty noticeably weird section in a book that’s ostensibly about amputation and challenging the desirability of different bodies etc etc. The author clearly wasn’t ready to be challenged on this point, but unfortunately the host seems nervous to actually push too hard about it, so it just ends up making for an exTREMEly uncomfortable ten minutes of podcast listening that left me pretty unimpressed with the author. It’s episode 18 of TheBodPod, time stamp ~38 minutes in if you’re interested.

[Jo Quenell · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a heck of a read. Honestly, I can't remember the last book I read that felt as weird as this--there is so much going on, involving quite a large cast of characters, and while sometimes it was hard to keep track of all the moving pieces, everything fell together quite nice. This was a brutal book (obviously, as the subject matter deals with body dysmorphia and amputation), but it never felt repulsive or repugnant. All the acts of violence contained in this book are consensual, which changes the tone of the graphic acts within. Headcheese is a strange, compelling read--one fans of weird fiction will love.

[Melissa Genova · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the more interesting, disturbing and weird books I have read lately. I flew through it in a day.

Part Palahniuk, part Geek Love, part anatomy text.

I had the pleasure of going to see Jess Hagemann read part of the text at a local book store, and I was sold on the book.

It was well researched on her behalf as well. I cannot relate this this type of dysmorphia and fetish, but I was still able to have empathy and understand the characters.

[Dave Fitzgerald · Rating 5 out of 5]

Headcheese made me very uncomfortable. Like, physically squirmy in places. And just to be clear, this is something I love. When a book, any book, manages to elicit an autonomic, bodily response, it is, for my money, doing something extremely right. Endlessly toggling between a number of disparate characters and perspectives (including, occasionally, her own), and suturing them together with webMD-style entries and message board quotes about all facets of both amputeeism and the lesser known BIID (body integrity identity disorder - a condition wherein someone feels the persistent urge to amputate one of their otherwise-healthy limbs), author Jess Hagemann has effectively recreated the sensation of falling down a wiki-hole in novel form, and cordially invited us to jump on in behind her and see just how deep it goes.

There are Iraq War veterans here, and prosthetic science wizards; Native American shamans and BDSM-enthusiasts; a double hand-transplant recipient, an armless sculptor, and a man who, despite little-to-no interest in painting, ends up cutting off his own ears. And then there's Bartholomew - the organizing principle tying this P.T. Anderson-esque mosaic together: a man who, via a series of underground, invitation-only, traveling performance pieces - referred to only as "Church" - is seeking to bring amputeeism and amputee fetishism, in all their various cut-and-pasted forms, out of the shadows and into the transcendental light. It's a broad spectrum Hagemann's looking at, but despite its seeming outlandishness, one that never feels gimmicky or unwieldy (no easy feat). Instead, what we get is a complex portrait of the many ways in which this particular subset of marginalized people are treated less like an afterthought than a full-on taboo - the ways in which we fear them - in some cases maybe even secretly loathe them - and thus marginalize them further through our own unwillingness to engage and understand.

Perhaps the coolest thing about Headcheese, however, is the way these stories tie off (tourniquet?). Neatly. Cleanly. Even if there's blood (and there is - sometimes a lot of it) it is the blood of clotting, and scabbing; of scarring, and ultimately healing. Because despite all its meticulously-researched, Palahniuk-esque body horror - its sharp edges and dark proclivities - what this book is really about, above all, is what it means to be made whole. Whether physically or emotionally. Whether through addition or subtraction. It's about the muscle and bone and tendons and nerve endings that connect us, and the peace we can achieve when we finally find that perfect, missing part... or finally let that imperfect, wrong one go.

[Michael Carter · Rating 5 out of 5]

Vibrant, horrific, patchwork-style novel that challenges form.

I applaud any author who takes risk with form. Hagemann does that in Headcheese, and pulls it off, expertly. Disjointed by design, she presents flash snapshots of characters, scenes, factoids, snippets, web quotes, even addresses the reader at times, and then loosely stitches things back together. The subject matter can be difficult, but Hagemann delivers it in an honest, matter-of-fact way that isn’t repulsive. I appreciated the “players” reference section up front as a guide, and found myself consulting it frequently until I learned the characters. The book is nicely complemented by the illustrations of author/artist Chris Panatier. All in all, a vibrant, horrific, self-described Choose-Your-Own-Adventure, patchwork-style, five-star book. Looking forward to reading more from this author.

[Robert Ashcroft · Rating 5 out of 5]

Formed of letters and blog posts, haunting sketches and painfully honest confessions, this is a book that will shock and challenge you. The author's deft, ghost-writer honed talent channels voices that read so real you'd swear you could google them. I don't know if I would say this is even horror - maybe, for you it will be. But ultimately, it's a study in a very different perspective from what you would normally encounter. Read it. Think about it. Maybe even research it. It's been stuck in my head for a long time. I'm not sure it will ever leave. The ones that matter never do.

[Preston · Rating 5 out of 5]

With the publication of House of Leaves in 2000, Mark Z. Danielewski simultaneously filled and created a hole in the horror literature market: The literary mockumentary. While horror cinema is rife with films professing to show "true" horrific occurrences (Ghost Watch, The Blair Witch Project, Noroi, etc.), few are the novels that attempt to give readers a similar experience. It's a shame, too, as Leaves' wonderfully immersive nature demonstrated just what an author can accomplish with the right level of research, intellect, and full dedication to the form.

Eighteen years later, Jess Hagemann's Headcheese stands as perhaps the first worthy contender to the title of Danielewski's successor in the realm of literary horror mockumentaries. Headcheese is an epistolary novel written in the form of a series of interviews, book excerpts, etc., a simultaneously academic and visceral headlong plunge into the world of body modification, and, more specifically, those who've come to fetishize the amputation of their own limbs (among other appendages). Imagine "Leaves" as written by Chuck Palahniuk during the Choke stage of his career.

Though the cast is expansive-- there are over two dozen primary characters -- much of the action gravitates around "Captain Hook," a former member of the US army who, after losing his hand to a sniper, realizes how much happier he is without it. Wanting to grant other individuals the same "gift" he sets about attempting to perfect a sort of DIY amputation system that will allow people to perform their own surgeries in the safety and comfort of their homes, away from the judgmental eyes of the medical community. As a result, numerous other amputee wannabes drift in and out of his orbit, their stories intertwining in unexpected and sometimes bizarre ways as those Hook helps begin to view him in terms approaching the messianic.

The beauty of Headcheese is Hagemann's ability to wear so many different hats, and switch between them so adeptly. One page finds her coldly analyzing the history of amputation in horror cinema; another is a heartwarming recollection of the reunion between a father and son. The next is a gruesome documentation of a home amputation gone horribly wrong (or rather, horribly right, as far as the character is concerned). It's very much a horror novel, but it's also very much a novel about the human condition.

Given its unique nature, to assess the book any further would be to spoil too much. Headcheese is an experience, one that every reader must embark upon him or herself. With such a strong debut, I forsee grand things for Hagemann, and Headcheese will always stand as a testament to her bold voice and authorial power.

[Chris Panatier · Rating 5 out of 5]

Many have focused their reviews of HEADCHEESE on its central theme of Body Integrity Identity Disorder, and this is fair to do, of course, as it was the impetus for Hagemann's writing the book in the first place.

But while bringing BIID to awareness deserves commendation (can you admit you were aware of this condition before reading about it here?), it is a catalyst for a novel. This isn't just a series of vignettes designed to highlight a condition. This is a cerebral, in your face, brave, and unapologetic, horror story. And while much of it can be described as body horror, there's another level to it. Those moments of gore aren't dwelled upon, just as those experiencing them in the story do not dwell. And in this approach, Hagemann opens the door to what is happening within the characters' heads. Their condition, if that's what you want to call it, has given them a certain business casual approach to the sometimes violent removal of various limbs and other parts (hint hint), that might be disturbing to the potentially unafflicted reader.

Jess delivers severed toes, noses peeled from the quick, transplanted hands, arms blown to mist by tiny explosives, be-headed and then re-headed nuns, skinwalkers and plenty of what the square crowd would regard as sexual deviance. All of this is in the eye of the beholder, and it is a sight.

I blew through this book. It is simply fascinating and unorthodox (an understatement). Hagemann knows who she is, and this is reflected in the way she confidently splits up each character's journey, inserting bits of obscure lore along with punch you-in-your-face commentary from herself in the first person. The book hops around and it works. It is refreshing and honest. The ending—poetic and heavy. Five stars. Tremendous.

[Kaylee · Rating 4 out of 5]

This might sound weird, but I was 100% nodding along with a sense of, "I don't sympathize but I can at least understand these feelings" -- UNTIL about page 230, where the single mention of miscarriage and abortion happens, and it's contextualized as being part of the woman (subtext: just like a limb that all these characters want to amputate!). And, sure, sometimes that's a feeling, but it's not universal (or postpartum would be universal), and it's certainly not something all women have to "ignore" or "talk themselves out of feeling" if they choose to abort. So, I had a problem with that (especially since this is a book about people who have different ideas about their bodies than what is considered normal).

Anyway, other than that very small quibble, I enjoyed this book. I wish Hagemann wouldn't be compared to Palahniuk (though how could she not be since he was first -- but in this case, it's not just that, but also "she's a female version! Women can have these thoughts!").

I read it after my boyfriend, who seemed much more disturbed than I was (though he can watch all sorts of horror movies, violently graphic, without much flinching; I end up looking off to the side of the screen) -- which probably says something about us and not so much about the book.

[Neyda · Rating 2 out of 5]

"She steps into black suede high-heeled booties, slicks her hair back, applies dark lipstick and a ridiculous gold Yoda necklace. The effect is half-sex kitten, half-kitsch vixen, and she feels hella good."


I had to put this book down. The topic is interesting, but I found the cadence and tone of this novel off-putting. Just not for me - but I understand why this appeals to other readers.

[Billie Tyrell · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was alright, it thinks it's more daring than it actually is. I think what holds it together is a kind of conversational writing style, though the person you're having a conversation with is a bit of a prick. Illustrations are nice.

[Maddy · Rating 3 out of 5]

It was so meh, it was like weird fan fiction for amputations?

[Daniel · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book made no sense and then at the end the author says that it started from a tumblr post so I was like “ah that’s why it’s so bad”

[Eric · Rating 4 out of 5]

What the fuck did I just read?

[Tobi Rogers · Rating 1 out of 5]

Absolutely terrible.

[Justin Burning · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a book about an assortment of characters dealing with amputation. Some of the characters are learning to cope after the loss of a limb, some want to be amputees, and some just fetishize the idea of amputation. The lives of the main characters ultimately intersect in a cult that revolves around voluntary surgical amputation. As you can imagine, the book is not for the weakly constituted. There’s plenty of gore, though most of it is discussed in textbook, rather than exploitative, fashion. There’s also a lot of blunt sexual stuff. But the book, for all its bizarre psychology, does manage to fold its unusual subject matter into often-poignant observations about the human condition and what constitutes loss and, conversely, wholeness. Hagemann’s main inspiration is Chuck Pahlaniuk, and, like his work, her writing is prone to drifting into masturbatory faux-poetics that sometimes derail an already fractured narrative split between the perspectives of more than 20 characters — which is way too many. Even with a detailed preface that breaks down each character, it’s difficult to keep most of them straight, since Hagemann doesn’t spend enough time with any of them to develop personalities. These characters are vessels to explore ideas, rather than anyone you might give two shits about. The text is interspersed with some really great illustrations and not-so-great, mostly pointless footnotes. “Headcheese” plays in a fascinating sandbox, but it’s too unfocused to really resonate beyond its at-times shocking veneer. Hagemann is a talented wordsmith, but I would have preferred a more traditional narrative framed by these characters’ very untraditional worldview.

[Rain · Rating 5 out of 5]

A difficult book to categorize or describe, but not to appreciate and enjoy.

Essays, stories, documents about voluntary amputation, dysmorphia, and body image. The tone is effectively flat and clinical, but unflinching, straddling a fictional Mary Roach mashed up with Chuck P.

I love how the narrative never really opines on its subjects. Is this horror, erotica, documentary, case study? That’s up to you. These people simply are, except of course that most of them are made up. Fascinating and fun. The narrator was perfect for the job - flat affect, pleasant but clinical, and almost unnoticeable.

I received a free copy of this book on audiobooksunleashed and have given my honest thoughts.

[Dylan Baldwin-Delaney · Rating 3 out of 5]

I judged this book by its cover, as I love Chris Panatier's illustrations. They may have been my favorite part of the book, actually. There were certainly a lot of inconsequential characters for a book about learning what you can cut away and do without. The vignettes seemed both too disparate and too pieced together at the same time. The stories seemed a bit disjointed (pun intended) and didn't seem to culminate into anything much. Probably a good read if amputation really is your thing, though.

[Ronald Martin · Rating 5 out of 5]

With her first novel, "HEADCHEESE", Author, JESS HAGEMANN, has earned the status as an intellectual powerhouse. HEADCHEESE is not only a horror novel but could also be classified as an Educational Textbook found in a university bookstore. Students majoring in fields, for example, that include the study of Body Integrity Identity Disorder (BIID), Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) and many other examples, could put HEADCHEESE to the task worthy of higher education. I'm now on my third reading.
_____ RONALD MARTIN, PROFESSOR OF MILITARY SCIENCE, Retired.

[Jeremy Fowler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Beware, Readers! While I had a little idea of the book that I was about to read, I really had no f*****g clue. I am still processing some of the scenes in this book and I think some of these depictions will stay with me forever. Following many characters, as they delve into their own exploration of amputation fetishes, this book was intricately plotted down to the final lines. I think the most intriguing part of this book is just how rational everything feels for the characters.

Anyway, I will never look at a guillotine the same way again.

[Blake Wickham · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another plane read. Glad I read this on my phone because if the print was any bigger I definitely would have gotten some looks. This book is gross and I mean that as a compliment! It is very effective body horror that knows how to make the reader uncomfortable.

I think this is one of those books that benefits from multiple reads as there were definitely some themes and subtle plot points that went over my head. The amount of characters was overwhelming at first, but I really got into it by the end of the book. 4/5.

[Kimik Gibson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Devastatingly brilliant in its exposition and humanity. This novel asked and then answered all of the questions that you, or rather, we were too innocent, ignorant, or prejudiced to ask about those who exist as or elect to become amputees. This was absolutely the most novel thing that I will read this year, and 2022 has only just begun.

[Bill · Rating 5 out of 5]

I dug everything about this one. It was an unsettling disjointed wonderful mess.

Suicidal starfish, Donny’s dunking donuts, eBay grade B tan lines, chocolate cherry eyeball sundae, and Lorrie’s 9 little piggies.

4.5 Stars rounded up to 5 because I am still thinking about this one days later. Well done and recommended.