Hello everyone! Today, I want to talk about Amygdalatropolis by B.R. Yeager, published in Italian by Nero Editions. This is not just a book—it’s an experience. The protagonist is a hikikomori, locked in his room for six years, completely absorbed in the darkest corners of the internet. A site that closely resembles 4chan, an endless loop of posts, videos, horrors, and delusions.
At first, I was hesitant. And to be honest, I still have mixed feelings about this book. But the fact that I’m here writing about it means that, for better or worse, it left an impact on me.
There were two things that initially put me off: the language and the plot.
The language of “the board” and another hikikomori story?
One of the most dominant voices in Amygdalatropolis is that of the board, written exactly as we see it online, with the same slang and structure. The primary language of these spaces is English, so I wasn’t sure if the Italian version could capture the same effect.
To my surprise, it actually worked. The experience felt realistic, not forced. This mix of Italian and English, which might seem unnatural at first, is something I regularly encounter on Reddit or even Facebook. It reflects how people actually write online. That said, I still want to read the original English version to compare the tone and vocabulary.
For those who are undecided, I also read many reviews of the English edition criticizing the long introduction, which not only contains spoilers but is also quite dense with philosophical concepts. In the Italian version, this content was moved to the afterword, and I think that makes a lot more sense. Reading it afterward feels much more useful than encountering it before starting the book.
And then the plot. A hikikomori locked in his room. Again? At first, it felt like an overused trope, just like in House of Sayuri, which also made me skeptical.
But in the end, that’s not the point. It’s not about what is told, but how it’s told. And here, the how is something completely new.
Did I read a book, or did I spend three hours scrolling Reddit?
The narrative structure of Amygdalatropolis and its three voices
One of the first things that stood out to me is the book’s structure. It completely breaks away from the conventional idea of a novel.
The book has three main voices:
- The protagonist, /1404er/
- The posts from the board
- A third, more cryptic voice, seemingly dreamlike or hallucinatory
The board is by far the most dominant. The threads are reproduced exactly as they appear online. And then, at one point, I realized I was reading them with the same mindset I use when scrolling through a forum. This was the moment I understood what this book was telling me: we’re all part of this system.
You think you’d never fall down certain rabbit holes. But once you’re there… can you really look away?
I’m not just talking about disturbing content. Even just discussions, how many people start reading out of “curiosity,” convinced they’re in control, only to realize they’ve been sucked in?
And then I stopped.
Isn’t that exactly what I do as a horror fan? Am I not drawn to the same things? We seek the macabre, the unsettling, the shock factor. But where is the boundary? Maybe the only difference is awareness, the ability to separate fiction from reality.
But how thin is that boundary? How easy is it to lose yourself?
I emphasize the structure of the book because it creates a unique reading experience. It feels like jumping between tabs on your phone, bouncing from post to post, with no logical order. Some threads are disturbing beyond words, others are philosophical discussions about free will and astrophysics.
This level of stylistic experimentation? I loved it.
Desensitization to horror – Amygdalatropolis, the city of fear?
Building on what I said earlier, the afterword draws two particularly interesting comparisons: Bataille and Martyrs (yes, that Martyrs).
Bataille believed that suffering could be a way to achieve a state of transcendence. I came across a quote that stuck with me:
“Between life and death, there is pain. Only through pain can we reach something close to transcendence.”
Martyrs follows a similar concept but on a physical level, taken to the extreme: a martyrdom so intense that it allows one to “see beyond.”
And in Amygdalatropolis? Here, too, there’s a search for self-annihilation, but without physical suffering. There’s only obsessive consumption. And it leads to… nothing. Absolute passivity. Even self-destruction isn’t an option.
“No matter what choice you make, it won’t change the outcome of the game.”
That line from the book’s eerie video game encapsulates its entire philosophy.
At first, I thought the title Amygdalatropolis meant “City of Fear”—after all, the amygdala is the part of the brain that processes fear.
But the characters aren’t afraid.
Then I read an interview with Yeager, and the explanation that made the most sense to me was this: for /1404er/, true hell isn’t the horrors he consumes online—it’s real life.
He is utterly indifferent to the most extreme atrocities. But he is terrified of the simplest things: talking to a delivery guy, entering the kitchen, hearing his own voice.
Online horror is internalized. Reality? That’s an entirely different nightmare.
/1404er/ – Everyone and no one, trapped with no redemption
And here we have our protagonist. His name is the same as the board he inhabits. Everyone shares the same username. There is no identity. Just complete dissolution of the self.
Internet at its finest.
/1404er/ is almost a secondary voice in the book. He is the protagonist, but he barely makes a sound. Even his ending isn’t really an ending. This was one of the aspects I didn’t completely enjoy, there is no real closure, no turning point.
But in a way, it makes sense. It fits perfectly within the book’s logic.
/1404er/lives and dies like a worm—without impact, without meaning. A passive observer, staring at the world through endless webcams. Watching everything and everyone, yet completely incapable of acting. A failed god, trapped by his own fears.
That lack of resolution that frustrated me? It’s probably intentional.
Catullus’ poem 25 as the book’s introduction
Choosing to open this book with Catullus’ Carmen 25 is no small detail. I remember Catullus well for his colorful invective, and here he paints Tallo as weak, spineless, pathetic. A passive, ridiculous figure.
And in Amygdalatropolis? /1404er/ embodies that exact same passivity. He has no identity, he dissolves into the anonymous mass of the board. He does nothing. He changes nothing.
Language as a weapon
Catullus, just like users on an anonymous forum, turns words into violence. Language is used to attack, degrade, annihilate.
The same thing happens online. Posts, comments, insults, threats. People consume horror from the safety of their rooms, hidden behind 25 layers of security to ensure they’re never discovered.
Is Amygdalatropolis worth reading?
It’s not for everyone. I was drawn to it because I’ve had first-hand exposure to these online spaces, so I was especially curious about how it would be portrayed.
For those unfamiliar with this world, it can be an interesting glimpse into a digital reality that truly exists, and is closer than we think.
But beyond its content, Amygdalatropolis is worth reading for its experimental structure alone. It’s not a book that grabs you, but it stains you.
And I’m not sure that’s a good thing.
