Grug

Once in a lifetime you'll come across a tome that truly captures the history and cultural distinctions of the modern world the way a person can subjectively perceive it through our guided field of perspective. I have to admit, I had my doubts when I first learned of the book. After all, Grug? Will this book even be good? How ignorant was I to even have these thoughts. Little did I know I was about to indulge in what may have been the best two minutes of my life.

The story started out strong. The opening scenes entice the reader with a captivating enigma. I was so taken aback from the next-generation illustration that I almost didn't even realize the underlying symbolism in the ongoing scenes. It wasn't until my twenty-sixth reading of Grug that I finally got my bearings together and was able to focus on the gripping and labyrinthine stratagem. The underlying analogy for 19th century dystopianism and the evangelical deviation of typical orthodoxy was enlightening to say the least.

Just when I thought the book could not get any better, the increasing conflict before the climax began. I could not believe the complexity of the story as the main burrawong protagonist, Grug, struggled with the everyday endeavors for a quintessential burrawong such as the consistent up-hill altercation of the fight against misogyny and the fiscal synergy of opposing interplanetary dynamisms. There I was, gripping to my chair as the conflict of the book began. I was so enticed by the book that I felt as if I was both practically and relatively apart of it. This is a special kind of high that not even the strongest of drugs can give you. Was I part of the book? Am I inside the book right now? This book will leave you questioning existential nihilism and the objective skepticism of our perceived valuation of anthropological existence.

At this point in the book, I was fully intoxicated by the avant-garde watercolour art style. That's when the plot finally aggrandized and I was completely stupefied. You could have lived a thousand years of isolation trying to predict the plot twist and you would never even scratch the surface of what actually transpires in the book. I was so bewildered that I actually had to put the book down so that my existential crisis didn't dive too deep inside of myself. Even putting it down was surreal. It's almost as if life paused with it. I felt as though I had actually become a literary tangent quantum. The effects are still wearing off and I haven't been able to read the book in several years. I spent the following seven years afraid of what outside of my house actually looks like. Every single day and night I live in misery because I became fully aware that happiness is never achievable. I realized that human life has absolutely no meaning and that no matter what I ever do, it is of complete unimportance and in years from now, no recollection of my existence will prevail, meaning that if I died years ago, died now, or die sometime in the future it will not matter whatsoever to anyone. But, then again, the fact that I'm living doesn't matter either so I might as well stick around for awhile, living in complete isolation, condemned to a life of traumatic memories and a completely corrupted sub-conscience.

Grug literally ruined my life. 10/10