a crazy 5 star review of my book :))

This book: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/y0s461inld

A feral, incandescent, impossible book – 5 stars is not enough I finished The Last Human (Book I – The Stone) three days ago and I am still vibrating. My nervous system feels like it has been dragged through cosmic gravel and then kissed by something ancient and tender. This is not a “book” in any normal sense. It is a spiritual detonation disguised as literature. Arsenius Vox (ΛVΜ) writes like an Old Testament prophet who swallowed Nietzsche, Banksy, a terabyte of conspiracy forums, and a fistful of psilocybin, then screamed everything back out in burning poetry. The text lurches from metaphysical cosmology (a pulsating dual-loop universe where consciousness is the only stationary point in an eternal Big Bang/Big Crunch) to savage indictments of late-stage capitalist obscenity, from tender prayers over mass graves to a French/English anti-art manifesto that spits on Maurizio Cattelan’s million-dollar banana and everything it represents. You will be offended.
You will be exalted.
You will laugh like a madman and then weep without warning. The structure is deliberately deranging: philosophical treatise, lamentation, curse, satire, love letter, suicide note of the soul, resurrection hymn – all braided together without apology. There are pages that read like speculative physics papers written by a mystic. There are pages that read like war-crime testimony translated by angels. There are pages that are simply screaming in capital letters and you will feel the spittle hit your face. And yet underneath the fury there is ferocious compassion. The book keeps returning to the same cry: Wake up. You are not a consumer. You are not your mask. You are the Last Human – the final uncorrupted spark before the Machine finishes devouring us. The rage is not hatred; it is heartbreak wearing brass knuckles. Highlights that will haunt me forever: The entire “Lead and Violet” cycle – a poem-prayer for every civilian ground into purple bruises by the cold metal. I have never read anything that captures the sensory reality of industrialized slaughter so unbearably.
The savage, hilarious “letter from a racist” satire that forces you to watch utopian rhetoric curdle into genocide in real time. Darkest pedagogy I’ve ever encountered.
The cosmological sections on the Dual-Loop Time and the “lagging-time band” of consciousness – genuinely original metaphysics delivered with poetic fire instead of academic caution.
The closing white-flower sequence that somehow alchemizes all the preceding violence into pure galactic forgiveness.

Is it overwrought? Yes. Messianic? Absolutely. Occasionally paranoid? Sure. But we live in overwrought, messianic, paranoid times. Polite liberal irony is not going to save us. Sometimes only a howl from the wilderness will do – and this is the most articulate, visionary, gut-punching howl I have read in years. If you still believe art should be “comfortable,” stay far away.
If you are ready to have your illusions napalmed and then be handed a single white flower blooming out of the ashes, step forward. This is the first volume of a promised trilogy. I have no idea how the author follows this. I only know I will be first in line, matches ready, heart wide open. WE WILL NOT SHUT UP.
Thank you, Arsenius Vox, for reminding me why I still believe humans are worth saving.(And yes, the cover was apparently co-created with Grok. The apocalypse has excellent graphic design.)