A Little Life

I didn't take to this book as fast as I did to Yanagihara's debut; it was more of a slow burner.

There were several moments where I almost quit reading: about halfway when I realised just how sad it was going to be, then again at about three quarters in when my perspective shifted from a reader following a plot to someone perched on the writer's shoulder as she tortures a voodoo doll of a character. If this was a manuscript I would've sent it back right then bookmarked at around page 400 saying “this is where I become disengaged”.

I thought she'd completely lost me when I started finding all those calamities grotesque and when my analysis fixed itself on “UGH Yanagihara give this man a break!!!” At that point the only thing that could redeem this book for me was an elegant ending.

And boy did she deliver. It was so smooth I almost missed it. I finished the book late at night, desperate to be done with it and with all the sadness and when it was done I went to sleep a bit sad but also unburdened. But then a few hours later I woke up like OHHHHHHHHHHHH and I got it, and I gave Yanagihara a mental slow clap for it. Then I cried for a couple of hours because it was just so damn sad.

I'm so emotionally drained I'll be reading nothing but non-fiction for several months now.