I finished A Little Life, against my better judgement.
Although I advised against reading this book, especially at this time I did not take my own advice and went ahead to complete the book. I left it around 400 pages in and had decided that I wouldn’t finish, but apparently I have no sense of self preservation.
A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara was the hardest book that I have ever read. It made me weep, and howl, and pull out my hair in frustration. It’s also a highly unrealistic, almost fantastical book in its concept of extremes- extreme highs and equally extreme lows. The extreme successes of Jude, JB, Willem and Malcolm in their respective careers, juxtaposed with the horrifying trauma of Jude’s past that dominates his entire life.
I also picked up a royally convenient time to read this fiend of a novel so joke’s on me really. But even when this hurt so much, I can’t seem to outright hate the book. Definitely hated a lot of it but after this was finished, relief was the most prominent emotion I felt. And agony, sustained for two entire weeks and counting.
In terms of the writing, the dialogue is indistinct and the prose is dense, with very little research on the writer’s part, hence the fantasy-like feel. But the pacing is pretty good for a book of over 700 pages. Read it at your own risk. Don’t follow my example I would say, just skip this one.
