A Little Life purports to be about a diverse group of four young men, all recent graduates living in New York, who are about to begin their adult lives. The book follows their development into a group of, sometimes troubled, but ultimately immensely talented and successful men. However, what the book is really about is the life of Jude, a mentally and physically damaged and severely traumatised individual.
I found it a deeply disturbing and depressing read.
The book was shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 2015 and has won countless awards and received multiple rave reviews from a variety of sources. Yanagihara has been compared to Donna Tart, one of my favourite writers. I feel as if I ought to have enjoyed it, or at least appreciated it, and expected to. But, honestly, I struggled to finish it, let alone enjoy it. It was a relief when it was finally over.
Maybe it’s me? Maybe I’m just not worthy or intellectual enough to “get” a book like this. I feel slightly nervous about sharing my opinions, which are in such stark contrast with those of so many literary experts, but that is what they are. Just my honest opinions. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t like it. However, for what it’s worth, it did leave me weeping.
What I liked:
I loved some of the descriptive prose and beautiful scene setting.
I loved the loyalty and kindness of Jude’s friends and family.
What I didn’t like:
The length – it was way too long in my opinion. I don’t mind a long read. In fact, if I’m really enjoying a book, I often don’t want it to end. But A Little Life was long in a rambling, repetitive way. It almost felt self-indulgent at times.
The chronology – The book twisted and turned in time and space, leaving me lost and confused on multiple occasions, as to who was talking and where and when they were. Sometimes I would be drawn into a scene that was interesting and intriguing, then it would drift into the past or the future for so long that I couldn’t remember whether the scene I had been enjoying had been concluded or what its meaning or relevance was.
The style – the book was very much all tell and no show. It broke all the supposed “rules of writing” about showing through dialogue and action, and being concise. When it did show, it did so largely through thought and memory. We always seemed to always be inside the head of one of the characters and never present in the moment itself.
The message – it was just so damned bleak, miserable and depressing. I can’t wait to read something more fun and uplifting.
I know I must seem shallow, irreverent and controversial, and maybe I am, but A Little Life just wasn’t for me.