March 20-29, 2020
Well, now I'm mostly dead. The biggest emotion this book evoked was rage. Some would view that as an accomplishment, but that certainly isn't my intention. I feel like I hate-read the entire novel, hoping that just maybe it would redeem itself. The author even took it upon herself to deliver the CliffsNotes version not even halfway through, just in case anyone needed a little push."There was my mother, with her sudden deviation from anything I’d ever known or expected from her. My father had killed himself in a place where he knew I’d find him, leaving me a note that said it was my responsibility to take care of the things he wasn’t strong enough to handle. The only woman I’d ever cared for I’d shared with my brother, a person I simultaneously loved and hated for it."And still, I couldn't have cared less. Every single character was so shallow and unlikable that I struggled to focus, skimming many of the repetitive sentences. The author chose to describe people by their zits and scabs, rather than with any real emotion. The narrator was so hollow it was a wonder she was still breathing.
These characters aren’t simply unlikable. They are all horrible people who actually commit horrific crimes and suffer no consequences. I can’t image one person who would enjoy reading about the illegal killing of animals; while these acts barely got a modicum of reaction. The final chapter attempted to “make this OK” and was completely outrageous, ludicrous.
Atmospherically, everything was dirty and gross. Each scene took on some type of heavy, overused descriptive, becoming so frequent that I was more focused on the miasma than the moment itself. A long-awaited, soul-baring moment between brother and sister was ruined with disgusting details. A tender scene with two people finally declaring love (in and of itself unbelievable because no character depth was ever established) was spoiled when one licked bug parts of the other's palm. My face was in a constant grimace. Not my form of entertainment.
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