A Little Life, Hanya Yanagihara
The novel talks about friendship, the families we make, the hurdles we needed to burn, or the skin we needed to tear away to make our lives a little bit better than what we deserve it to be.
Before picking this book at our local bookstore, I already heard so much about it. Friends, mutual friends, people I didnāt know were praising it. They vowed that it was beautiful, that it wasĀ āthe great gay novel,ā it was devastating, and will change your life.
However, I didnāt feel those things while I sifted from page after page.
Donāt get me wrong. The first 200 pages of the book was captivating. It really sold to me the idea of four young men whose friendship could just change the world. If you know me, these kinds of literature are what Iāve been craving for. But that tiny ray of sunshine was not really fleshed out in the entirety of the 700-page novel.
For me, the whole book felt jagged but it kept dragging you by your feet. It focused on Jude, the life he led, and was forced to lead. It highlighted his pain and the already obvious tragedy. It also moved us with him, how he coped, how he found the life we was born to lead. From paragraph to paragraph, we met the people that Jude met and made his life more than what he makes it to be.Ā
I loved that aspect of the book. It had fleshed out characters and their stories were interesting enough to get you by. But that wasnāt enough. What was missing were their interactions, the little images of the gang while they found their way through New York and made their own names, or how they found solace in one another, how Jude bakes and cooks for them, or how JB draws them in their most fragile. We didnāt get that throughout the novel, just bits and pieces of what we could have had.
What was lacking in the friendship sense, however, redeemed itself in the family. Those were the most beautiful scenes. The ones with Harold and Julia. The ones where family isnāt who you give birth to, whose blood flows in your veins, but family is where and what and who you choose it to be.
This book isnāt the greatest, nor is it bland. It was a long, painful read because of the tragedies on top of another on top of yet another. You need to suspend your disbelief because of the unbelievable pain porn that it will present to you. The impossible circumstances of the testosterone-filled gang, how they found their way up the ladder, how they used their (already present) privilege, and how it makes us believe that this is somehow something melancholic and something that we must be in awe with.Ā
It had a shallow understanding of gender and racial identity. It wasnāt talked about, not given enough color, not given enough issues, not resolved. The issues were only cherries on top, sprinkles on a cake - not necessary, just needed to make it seem better, worthwhile.
The book sold itself through friendship, fluidity, family, identity, trauma, childhood. It tackled so much -- too much -- that it wasnāt able to get a hold of what it really wanted to say.Ā
Iād rate this 3Ā willem busts of out 5.
















