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A review by cheesebagel
A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara
2.0
It’s always bitterly sad to read a book that you were looking forward to and wind up having to force yourself through to the last page. The reviews plastered across the front cover of this book combined with all the recommendations I’d heard singing its praises had me so excited to read something that might in any way make me feel like I did after reading The Goldfinch and I was severely disappointed.
I’m giving this book two stars rather than one because the first half of the book would probably have received a three or a three and a half and the rest of it a one or less if it were possible.
I didn’t like the writing style from the very beginning, which was probably my first indicator that I wasn’t going to particularly enjoy the book, but I overlooked it (and quite easily, too) because it wasn’t bad – only not to my taste. The first half of the book features an unusual amount of violence, something of which I consider myself pretty tolerant and, in fact, wasn’t repulsed by it until a certain character is introduced around the middle of the book. After this, though, I was literally reading the book with my face in a permanent cringe because it was so distastefully and graphically violent. I’m honestly shocked that I hadn’t seen or heard a single trigger warning in this book because nearly every single one you can think of applies: sexual abuse, self-harm, rape, psychological and physical abuse, child abuse, eating disorders, suicide, and probably several more that won’t come to mind. Particularly jarring were the numerous (NUMEROUS) detailed and extensive descriptions of various methods of self-harm.
But what bothered me the most was not the abuse and the self-harm, but the fact that they were so obviously unnecessary, overused, and emotionlessly written. This book is 720 pages long and I swear if you ripped out each page that detailed self-harm or abuse it’d be half the size, and I’d put actual money on this. The book was painfully repetitive, not just of violence, but also of the horrible beyond imagination things that continue to happen to Jude. When I can predict how the book is going to end from the first few chapters, that book is not going to be one that I enjoy or recommend and I guessed the ending of the novel within the first few pages (and then, regrettably, had to read 700 more to watch it unravel).
I expected the book to document the friendship of the four main characters, Jude, Willem, Malcolm, and JB, and perhaps this was the case for a handful of chapters, but after this it was mainly about Jude, and the other characters (besides Willem, who was only significant because he was so to Jude) fade into the background. And even this would’ve been tolerable if Jude hadn’t been such an easily hateable character. I tried so hard to like him, I really did, especially since his suffering is so intense throughout the novel, but at some point I realized that I didn’t dislike him because he was annoying or cruel or stupid, but that actually Yanagihara hadn’t given me a single viable reason to like him at all. A friend of mine (who listened to me moan and complain about the book for a week while I read it) watch an interview in which Yanagihara claims she intended to write a character who was so hopeless that he couldn’t be helped and whose infinite misery was inevitable and incessant to teach readers that some people in the world cannot be helped and should essentially be left alone to commit suicide (woah, ok?). But, I mean, really she succeeded.
Jude is pathetic and whiny, corny and unlikeable, has no redeeming qualities, AND leads such an unrealistic life that it’s impossible to either relate or to place the story within some sort of understandable perspective. I’ll leave it to those who have read the book to consider this part, since this review is already ridiculously long, but to anyone who has yet to open it (or who has made it partway through and is considering DNF’ing): put it down, forget it exists. Read the Goldfinch.
I’m giving this book two stars rather than one because the first half of the book would probably have received a three or a three and a half and the rest of it a one or less if it were possible.
I didn’t like the writing style from the very beginning, which was probably my first indicator that I wasn’t going to particularly enjoy the book, but I overlooked it (and quite easily, too) because it wasn’t bad – only not to my taste. The first half of the book features an unusual amount of violence, something of which I consider myself pretty tolerant and, in fact, wasn’t repulsed by it until a certain character is introduced around the middle of the book. After this, though, I was literally reading the book with my face in a permanent cringe because it was so distastefully and graphically violent. I’m honestly shocked that I hadn’t seen or heard a single trigger warning in this book because nearly every single one you can think of applies: sexual abuse, self-harm, rape, psychological and physical abuse, child abuse, eating disorders, suicide, and probably several more that won’t come to mind. Particularly jarring were the numerous (NUMEROUS) detailed and extensive descriptions of various methods of self-harm.
But what bothered me the most was not the abuse and the self-harm, but the fact that they were so obviously unnecessary, overused, and emotionlessly written. This book is 720 pages long and I swear if you ripped out each page that detailed self-harm or abuse it’d be half the size, and I’d put actual money on this. The book was painfully repetitive, not just of violence, but also of the horrible beyond imagination things that continue to happen to Jude. When I can predict how the book is going to end from the first few chapters, that book is not going to be one that I enjoy or recommend and I guessed the ending of the novel within the first few pages (and then, regrettably, had to read 700 more to watch it unravel).
I expected the book to document the friendship of the four main characters, Jude, Willem, Malcolm, and JB, and perhaps this was the case for a handful of chapters, but after this it was mainly about Jude, and the other characters (besides Willem, who was only significant because he was so to Jude) fade into the background. And even this would’ve been tolerable if Jude hadn’t been such an easily hateable character. I tried so hard to like him, I really did, especially since his suffering is so intense throughout the novel, but at some point I realized that I didn’t dislike him because he was annoying or cruel or stupid, but that actually Yanagihara hadn’t given me a single viable reason to like him at all. A friend of mine (who listened to me moan and complain about the book for a week while I read it) watch an interview in which Yanagihara claims she intended to write a character who was so hopeless that he couldn’t be helped and whose infinite misery was inevitable and incessant to teach readers that some people in the world cannot be helped and should essentially be left alone to commit suicide (woah, ok?). But, I mean, really she succeeded.
Jude is pathetic and whiny, corny and unlikeable, has no redeeming qualities, AND leads such an unrealistic life that it’s impossible to either relate or to place the story within some sort of understandable perspective. I’ll leave it to those who have read the book to consider this part, since this review is already ridiculously long, but to anyone who has yet to open it (or who has made it partway through and is considering DNF’ing): put it down, forget it exists. Read the Goldfinch.