"Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home."
- Anna Quindlen
Okay. Okay no wait. WHAT IS THIS I AM READING.
... I guess I should expound on that, but it was somewhere between the rape of the deaf-dumb teenager, the man chanting "Christ, Christ, Jesus Christ" while staring at a giant crucifix and expecting it to start writhing, and the graphic description of beating a lamb's head in with a rock, that my brain basically imploded with a NO WAY UH-UH WAAAAAAAIT A MINUTE WHUT.
All this and more within ten pages. This is not a Monday-morning-commute sort of a story. I don't know WHAT sort of story this is.