My Slumbering Heart

I finished the book.

...

Fuck. I don't fucking know what the fuck that was. I mean, it was good until the very end when suddenly it went from being a good mystery to be an aBSOLUTE MINDFUCK.

So I'm going to spoil you guys, okay? I'm sorry, but I need to share my pain with others and this blog is as good a place as any. So here goes:

So Johnny Rien is investigating the Ninth Hour. He's looking for his client's daughter, who was supposed to be kidnapped by the Ninth Hour, but it turns out that she's working for them willingly...or was possibly brainwashed by them. Anyway, he finds out that she's actually been replaced by something else, some entity that can take her shape, a shapeshifter or something.

Right, so you're probably thinking "Well, yes, that is weird." No, see, that's in the middle of the book. That's weird, but I've read these types of stories before. I wasn't that surprised that the book turned into fantasy. But now Johnny Rien has to find the daughter and fight the shapeshifter and stop the Ninth Hour from replacing more people with shapeshifters (they are called "The None" here, but you know they are shapeshifters).

And then, at the end, when Johnny has finally saved the girl and stopped the evil plan, the Ninth Hour try to trick him and convince him that he's one of the shapeshifters. I was expecting this twist ending, you see; these types of stories always have a twist and I thought it might be cool if Johnny was one of the None and he didn't know it (and yes, I did realize that "Rien" is French for "nothing"). But no, Johnny is perfectly human.

But then everyone around him turns out to be shapeshifters. Or something. Honestly, I'm not sure, but then the book goes super weird:

The Ninth Hour's last curse was for me to see the truth of all things. I saw the people as they were: faceless, formless, shapeless. They were all nothing, all None. I was surrounded by crowds of the unnamed, the unseen, the unheard, the unthought. They are not real. They are mere fiction. 

I sit here in this dark room and I await my end. I await it eagerly for I cannot continue living like this. I cannot continue knowing what I know.

The Ninth Hour is None. We are all none. We are nothing but words, empty of meaning and devoid of thought.

I welcome oblivion. Turn the page and end my existence.

You see what I mean? What the fuck, right?

Well, time to return it to my therapist's office. Maybe I can ask him where he got it.

See you later,
Lonny