This novel opens upon a girl living on a sidewalk. Her descriptions of the world are abstract, ghostly, and clinical — enough so to make it unclear if she understands what the objects around her are. She thinks of herself as a particle settled in the guts of a monolithine purgatory, looking on its mechanisms with awe and fear while recognizing herself as a being that cannot engage with them...
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Okay, yes, thank you, Abrogail can recognize the dreadful madness of the Far Tapestry before she gets far enough into the book that it eats her mind and brain and soul and body in approximately that order.