It's truly hilarious how our main character is obsessed with existing outside society, but in reality he is nothing but a product of the patriarchy with thoughts and feelings just like so many pathetic men I've unfortunately known IRL. Something I did like about this book is that for the most part it didn’t feel like the author was 100% going for shock value to sell this. It sounds almost like a joke, and maybe it indeed is: A necrophile and a cannibal meet and are instantaneously fascinated by each other, believing to have found a kindred weirdo, the antidote to oneself.

Dead Inside gives even further food for thought, for instance by presenting victims of consensual violence who die a happy death, prompting its main character to wonder about how fucked up people can get, even more than himself. We follow two people that find each other despite their gross idiosyncrasies - so at the heart of it, it’s a love story.

Now I am going to go take a scalding hot shower to wash away my sins for reading this book and maybe have a salad afterwards. Their interaction, the way they struggle to open up, along with their inner dialogues felt both compelling and amusing.

obviously VERY dark humour, but if you’re into that, you might have a blast reading this just like i did. I give “Dead Inside” by Chandler Morrison a 4/5 because even though this was one disturbing, graphic, and gory read, I enjoyed the hell out of it. It is rare that the namelessness of a main character has a meaning, a significance above and beyond giving them a sense of mystery or objectivity. I feel like all the blood in my body has rushed into my groin, and there’s an undeniable magnetism between our genitalia, pulling me toward her, beckoning me into her. As they unwittingly help each other understand a world in which neither seems to belong, they begin to realize what it truly means to be alive.

Helen, on the other hand, likes to eat dead babies and as an obstetrician at the maternity ward she is right at the source to her object of desire. It’s a feeling that’s hard to explain but let’s just say, you feel guilty for reading this and will want to read a book to cleanse yourself because it’s that grimy and obscenely sexual. This book is a wild ride down a dark hole and a head-first dive in a putrid puddle of shit, maggots and fuck knows what else. I sit on the couch and look at the savage, grisly scene before me, and I try to think of how someone normal would react to it. I loved the dynamic between the twisted main characters, who just happened to be a nihilistic necrophiliac and a cannibal doctor.

I walk back to the living room and pick up my discarded shirt, taking my cigarettes out of the pocket and lighting one. That's up to individual readers to make that choice for themselves based on their own threshold or tolerance for scenes of graphic imagery. The relationship between them sours despite Helen asking him to stop shutting her out which he does to an extent but it isn’t the same as before. I plan on giving this proper rant review soon, but for now I'll simply say that this is yet another overhyped book written by a man that thinks far too highly of himself and his writing abilities.

They have a conversation while Helen is consuming a dead baby and he tells her that he isn’t going to tell anyone about her activities if she keeps his own a secret and this act forges a bond between the pair. I see a lot of people saying Morrison’s writing is brilliant and unique because all of this is intended as satire, and maybe that’s true and I’m the one who’s missing something here, but either way, Dead Inside didn’t work for me, and not for the reasons I expected. I’m talking about the kind of book that will be stuck with me for a very long time because this is absolutely insane. But it is above all about an isolation, an alienation and a resulting unconformity so deep, it is bound to be hellish.

These two social outcasts’ lives intertwine taking their personal perversions to all new, unfathomable levels of extreme. I spread her legs a little wider and mount her, groaning as I slide myself into the cold dryness of her unlubricated vaginal canal.

Almost political in nature is also main character’s (MC) sexual life – although he acknowledges the root of his sexual preference stemming from the fact that dead bodies are safe and can’t hurt you, they won’t lie and cheat and reject you, he also takes a certain kind of pride in the deviancy of that preference. Gripping the sides of the icy metal table, eyes crawling over her gorgeously ravaged body, I begin to thrust. I listened to this on a 3 hour road trip today, and would just love to know what the other drivers on the road thought was happening when they passed my car and saw a 21 year old girl screaming at nobody, steering one-handed with the other clamped over her mouth in complete revulsion, and/or staring out into the distance wondering how she arrived at a point in life where a book like Dead Inside was chosen for a "fun" Thursday read. The whole story kind of feels like it has a veil of thirteen year old goth edge to it, but I’d say that’s intentional because the character narrating is one of these “strange and unusual” types who doesn’t have much in the way of social skills, after all, he doesn’t usually have to woo his ladies. Dead Inside” reminded me of that as just when I thought no way does this book get even crazier and gorier it sure enough did.