Review of The Aristocracy of Weak Nerves by Justin Isis

In Justin Isis’s most daring publication so far, the reader is asked to tour a philosophical zoo and peer into an abyss—not a void, but a liminal space populated by undisclosed presences and imbued with esoteric forces. 

The two long tales exemplify a depth of subtext and an often baffling hint toward the numinous.
The shimmering polish of the writing is something I’ve come to expect from the author’s work. Told in a first person, yet distant perspective, the tales are exclusively narration. Characters are more bodies in motion than personalities here.
In the disturbing second tale, the narrator’s burgeoning hierophilia underlies compulsions toward destruction rooted in a penchant for discovering what is beyond the aura of divinity radiated by certain arbitrary objects. Some readers may not appreciate the thought-provoking nuance woven through the brutality of these outsiders dismantling society’s strictures to unearth universal secrets. Their manic behavior is laden with a disdain for readily accepted answers and blindly swallowed doctrines. Their culminating experience is an awakening toward higher consciousness and a revelation of their own inner natures. Aching to express the ineffable, like performance art of the most aggressive stripe, they enact their angry hunger upon a public saint whose mysterious powers beckon them toward the discovery of inner vastnesses. His patent artificiality suggests that outward appearances of sanity and popular support are nothing more than candy-coated layers concealing abstract intents. A kernel of darkness swathed in light. Faces are like masks made of meat. One might even strip mine the brain in search of consciousness, but like subatomic particles, we can only assume their existence via a swarm of potentialities, since photons are too large to render them observable.
The lush setting and superb storytelling crystallize around the lattice of the author’s mastery of sentence architecture. Adornments of social commentary merely enhance the savor of the decidedly rich aesthetic of this book.
Breathlessly, I await the author’s next work.