I have never read a book like War Porn. Roy Scranton writes with unnerving power. There is much to admire here—the meticulous craftsmanship, the hysterical comic passages, the way the sheer audacity of vision is matched at every turn by the innovative skill to carry it out—but what I’m left with at the end is difficult to put into words. It’s intense and troubling. It’s what all truly excellent literature leaves you with. A sense of something shattering.