Corey Taylor doing what Corey Taylor does best: loud honesty, sharp edges, and an almost uncomfortable appetite for calling bullshit.
Corey Taylor writes like a man who has opinions and no immediate plans to whisper them. Subtlety was not invited; it probably would not have enjoyed itself anyway.
The book is messy, loud, funny, and occasionally sharp. It works best when the ranting turns into reflection instead of just volume.
I enjoyed the rawness because it feels lived-in. There is performance, sure, but also a real attempt to wrestle with appetite, anger, and human contradiction.
Not a delicate book, but it has pulse. Sometimes that is exactly the point.
There is a lot of volume in it, but underneath the volume there is a real attempt to think about shame, appetite, hypocrisy, and the tiny moral costumes people wear when they want to look cleaner than they are.