Rags’s Reviews > The Book of Disquiet > Status Update

I want to dream of a monologue that I give myself, while reciting these lines that will leave me with goosebumps all over: "Inch by inch I conquered the inner terrain I was born with. Bit by bit I reclaimed the swamp in which I'd be languished. I gave birth to my infinite being, but I had to wrench myself out of me with forceps."

i am reading something that is sifting and which is shape-shifting of it's own, and i can't be hyperaware of what the introduction told me, on how, "what we have here, is anti-literature, a kind of primitive, a verbal CAT scan of a man's anguished soul."