I genuinely do not know how to review Ithica without sounding like I have just returned from a particularly feverish dream and am still trying to establish what year it is.

Is it dystopian erotica? A gleefully obscene political satire? A commentary on the current state of society delivered by someone who may have temporarily misplaced the last remaining shred of sanity? Honestly, your guess is as good as mine.

There were moments when I was staring at the page thinking, I have absolutely no idea what is happening here. Naturally, my response was to keep reading. Because apparently confusion is now one of my recreational activities.

And yet, beneath all the glorious absurdity, there is something surprisingly sharp going on. Ithica manages to be ridiculous and serious at the same time, often within the same breath. It pokes at politics, power, society, and human behaviour with enough sarcasm and smut to make the whole experience feel slightly illegal.

Was I always sure I understood what I was reading? Absolutely not.

Did I occasionally wonder whether the author and I were inhabiting entirely different dimensions? Quite possibly.

Did I enjoy it anyway? Weirdly, emphatically, yes.

This is not a book I would describe as conventional, straightforward, or remotely predictable. In fact, calling it “unusual” feels almost offensively inadequate. It is bizarre, provocative, irreverent, occasionally baffling, and somehow manages to hold all those qualities together without collapsing under their collective weight.

Ithica is less a reading experience and more an encounter with literary chaos. And while I am still recovering from whatever the hell just happened, I have to admit that I had a damn good time.

4 stars for originality, audacity, and possibly the strangest reading experience I've had in a while.