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Party at the World’s End

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4.29 of 5 stars 4.29  ·  rating details  ·  24 ratings  ·  5 reviews
Take a mad ride past the event horizon of sanity with the band Babylon, in the final days of the American Empire. First in the occult punk, myth and fairy-tale laced transmedia series, the Fallen Cycle.

“Beautiful!” David Mack, renowned sequential artist of Kabuki, Daredevil, Dexter.
“Brutal, darkly funny, and, above all, honest.” Powell’s Books 'Short List'.
“A progressive f...more
Paperback, 1st final edition, 310 pages
Published August 15th 2014 by Mythos Media (first published July 12th 2011)
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Irene Roth
Party at the World’s End
Book One of the Fallen Cycle
By: James Curcio

This is a unique novel which will keep you at the edge of your seat as you are reading it. The novel has a lot of plot twists and it is raunchy in places. It is also evocative in nature. So, it is definitely adult reading. But once you get into the book, you won’t want to put it down until you finish reading it.

James Curcio is a master storyteller. He takes the reader into deep mythological lore and applies it to today’s soci...more
xJane
The tagline says it best, "SEX. DRUGS. REVOLUTION. CROSSBOWS.", all things I'd've done well to have kept in mind throughout.

It was hard for me to start, for some reason—perhaps, it was too good of a description of what happens in mental institutions. I wouldn't know, but it was uncomfortably…uncomfortable. Grime and sweat and blood and mental instability are not things I generally seek out—and perhaps my reaction to it is more telling than I'd like it to be.

There's a lot of drugs in this book. B...more
Carrie Clevenger
Wow is my one word for this stunning novel. I give it four stars mainly because it's a little rough, typos and just a few rough edges to make it not perfect, but what book is really perfect, right?

Let's get to the good stuff. James Curcio is an outstanding author. This book is a modern-day crusade against, well you fill in the blank. Comparable to masterpieces dealing with matters of the mind as Pink Floyd's The Wall, Curcio's book hops heads effortlessly, taking the reader into deeper waters, w...more
Jazmin
This is a reboot of the original novel, Fallen Nation: Babylon Burning. Extensively revised and reimagined, this book offers tighter writing, absurdity and the inevitability of change in one small dystopian package.
Annette
Really evocative. Seemed a little rough and hard to follow, but very enjoyable read.

Dystopian literature usually falls short for me, because the authors often don't do a good enough job making a world believable without falling back on reality. This book doesn't use reality. James Curcio deftly weaves a world different from the current one and has his characters desperately claw through it.

Drugs, sex, it's all there.

I haven't read any of this author before. He's good, very good. I'll recommend m...more
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290171
James Curcio once beat a bear at chess, and Stephen Hawking in a boxing match. His analytic and creative work has always looped back around to myth and identity. It's been taught as required material in undergrad classes, and discussed at panels in psychedelic and "new culture" festivals.

He tells lies for money, and sometimes uses those skills for the forces of good: to help promote the work of o...more
More about James Curcio...
Join My Cult! The Immanence Of Myth Fallen Nation: Babylon Burning Words of Traitors: 7 Lives In Transition Apocalyptic Imaginary: The Best of Modern Mythology 2011

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“She rubbed the skin off your headstone of a sternum and painted a sad picture of herself in your eyes. We fell in love with that little peep-show projection on the inside of an iris, pictures that amount to nothing more than the thirsty moon over a spot of bloody ground. Those weren’t the nothings we restless sleepwalkers knew, no place no home no song. So we heard her and we followed until she went where we couldn't follow.

She went down beyond the mountains and disappeared between the crease of sky and land, like a great eyelid folding shut. No one knows what happened out in the Black Hills, but I imagine she lies buried in a rusty coffin under the stars. And on nights when the desert crickets sing her tune, they say one day she will rise again. On that day, there is no telling the kind of vengeance she'll demand of us. Fair is fair.

They say when she fell from Heaven she wore a crown of jagged stars that slit the skies throat. They say she loved them all, in the secret corners of their shallow sleep. Strangers, at the last. They say a lot of things. They’re all lies. Everything is already written.”
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“We fell in love with that little peep-show projection on the inside of an iris, pictures that amount to nothing more than the thirsty moon over a spot of bloody ground. Those weren’t the nothings we restless sleepwalkers knew, no place no home no song. So we heard her and we followed until she went where we couldn't follow.

She went down beyond the mountains and disappeared between the crease of sky and land, like a great eyelid folding shut. No one knows what happened out in the Black Hills, but I imagine she lies buried in a rusty coffin under the stars. And on nights when the desert crickets sing her tune, they say one day she will rise again. On that day, there is no telling the kind of vengeance she'll demand of us. Fair is fair.

They say when she fell from Heaven she wore a crown of jagged stars that slit the skies throat. They say she loved them all, in the secret corners of their shallow sleep. Strangers, at the last. They say a lot of things. They’re all lies. Everything is already written.”
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