The ending saved this book from being a complete washout. Perhaps it's just that it finally reached the conclusion that I had forecasted at the start and therefore appealed to my vanity. Rife with minds games that perhaps entertain those who weren't born in a crucible and overblown prose and pretentious language that gave me eyestrain from so much rolling. I thought I would have to rail against the delusional marxist rhetoric X manages to spew forth, yet acts in direct opposition to, but thankfully, no. If one likes mindfucking, especially where everyone involves really deserves it and has the fortitude to endure proselytizing than this is a decent read. P.S. X's art is so derivative, it's kitsch. Dogs Playing Poker are more original.