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🎉 Happy Bookbirthday to The Confessions by Paul Bradley Carr!
High tech, high tension — and just when you think you’re getting answers... it cuts to black.
💻 The Confessions serves up corporate secrets, digital ghosts, and one of those endings that leaves you staring at the final page like: really? Really??
Frustrating, fascinating, and definitely still on my mind. ✨ Anyone else read a book lately that pulled the rug just as the curtain dropped?
✨ The Confessions by Paul Bradley Carr
📚 A chilling techno-thriller where AI knows your secrets—and sends them to your doorstep.
PRE-READING THOUGHTS
I thought I was in for something like The Measure—a slow burn of philosophical dilemmas and personal reckonings. But no! This is an adrenaline-fueled morality play with chase scenes, sabotage, and a healthy side of techno-paranoia. One of those books that starts with “something weird arrives in the mail” and then spirals deliciously out of control.
POST-READING
🟢 As I thought...
The big questions are here: what do we owe each other, how do we decide who lives or dies, and should algorithms have souls? It gets under your skin in a good way. And Maud, the ex-nun turned AI teacher? Iconic.
🟡 It surprised me by...
Being way more action-heavy than expected! There's real tension, movement, and danger—explosions, betrayals, and morally complex standoffs. It also just stops at the climax, which was slightly maddening. No real resolution. I need an epilogue or at least a consequence!
🎵 MUSIC PAIRING
Featured Song: "No Choir" by Florence + The Machine — introspective, mournful, and quietly powerful, like Maud herself.
Vibe Album: Hunger by LUNIR — slick electro-soul that feels equal parts synthetic and deeply human.
Artist Rec: Zola Jesus — for all your haunting, post-human existential crises.
🌀 VIBE CHECK
🎨 Colour Palette: Midnight blue, algorithmic white, blood red.
🎬 Soundtrack: Ex Machina + Gone Girl = paranoia-core.
🌦 Season: Late autumn—just as the cold creeps in and you realise you don’t trust your heating system.
😶 Mood: Haunted by your Google search history.
🕯 Scent: Printer ink and scorched wires.
🔮 TAROT PULL
Two cards for a world unraveling from the inside out.
The Moon (Transient Light Tarot) – The truth warps in the moonlight. Secrets rise, the landscape shifts, and nothing is quite what it seems. This card speaks to the paranoia and moral ambiguity that ripple through The Confessions—a world where you’re never quite sure what’s guiding you... or why.
The Tower (Unfolding Path Tarot) – A system collapse on a global scale. LLIAM’s sudden silence topples the world’s illusions of control, and a lone figure falls—maybe Kaitlan, maybe Maud, maybe all of us. The destruction is brutal, but it clears the way for something new... if anyone survives it.
FOR FANS OF:
📖 The Circle by Dave Eggers
📺 Black Mirror (especially White Christmas or Shut Up and Dance)
The first fully developed autobiography, written in the fourth century.
Difference between Autobiography , memoir , dairy or journal.
Autobiography: Biography written by the subject about himself or herself.
Memoir: The author emphasizes the people and events they have known or witnessed.
Dairy/Journal: It’s the day-to-day record of the events in one’s life, written for personal use& satisfaction, with little or no thought of publication.
Amazon.in - Buy Saint Augustine Confessions book online at best prices in India on Amazon.in. Read Saint Augustine Confessions book reviews
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The first light he saw, indistinctly stroke on the limb of his semi-closed eyes. Consenting him to gaze the fancy colors of life there is.
From that they on, he can’t evoke a second of his memory. Not a single picture of his life’s emergence crosses his wailing faculty. Seems like he was thrown out to somewhere he didn’t even know. Not able to recognize which hands pull him out from the pit of his pre-existence.
After three years all he can remember was looking at the face of a weathered tree that slowly sunk in the cold ground on a rainy day of September. A tree he can’t even be cognizant of. Not eloquent of the pouring tears from his eyes, he plunged into an interrupted stream of sorrow flowing underneath the surface of his consciousness. And all that he knows is something, a part of his individuality, was drifted away in the echo of obliviousness.
Right there on, he felt even more betrayed. Feeling like his life is haunted with contempt. But there’s no one to ask, there’s no one to blame, there’s no one for him. So, he needed to endure selfishly the agony that was buried deep within. �
I’ve known of a man who continuously ask himself of his worth. Always doubting if his existence is with the living or with the dead. He never grew weary in making a fuss about his relevance to this world which he thought of as a dwelling of deceased souls.
This man was born with such convictions. Principles which he hoped to be the truth. The truth he dreamed of as a reality. And the reality he wanted to live. However, this is not how things were, for he learned that living can be more demanding and outrageous as it may seem.
Thus, little did he know about this world, for he’s always concealing his shadows amidst the light of darkness. Finding comfort in seclusion, nursing his timid thoughts in the lonesome time of the day.
This leads him to be scornful about life for letting him in and being able to sneak into an arena of melancholy forebodings. He despises the gift everyone rejoices of. The gift of chance and the happiness that fate may hold. Henceforth, he drew a circle around himself, a circle dividing his true self from the reality of this world. Allowing the twilight cast by his shadow roam the radiant light of the day while shoving off his fundamental reality into the abyss of forgotten memory bliss.
~St. Monica with St. Augustine~
Sonet XVII (I do not love you) by Pablo Neruda
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it's you the one that I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you,
Bent to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.
In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.
The Confessions Cycle
