The Autobiography of My Mother

Bleak and brutal. I don't think I have ever read anything that is written so beautifully about a life that is so empty of love and happiness, where just being is all there is. Where little crumbs of comfort come from being used by someone or being given to someone.

I can't say I enjoyed this, it is not a comfortable read, but the prose is something else, the whole thing is really quite astonishing.