Five stars and one f**k you to Hanya Yanagihara’s ‘A Little Life’

My entire Goodreads review is: “Well, I say.” — Cover by Picador

Okay. So, the final chapter of A Little Life is comparatively short. However, it took me longer to finish, given that every new sentence I’d encounter, I’d no longer be able to see due to the volume of crying, at this point, on par with Grave of the Fireflies. Both times, I was fine (correction: I was not fine reading this book, 65% of which I read in two days) up until the very last act, at which point I was genuinely sobbing.

Credit where credit’s due: I had every wish to sob loudly and violently but did not, as it was the middle of the night and I do not live alone. Probably made me cry harder, but who’s to say? Oh, and then, after I had finished this book, I stumbled out, sat down, and watched the final two episodes of Vikings. I didn’t cry as hard, but tears were shed. Vikings was good soup.

Anyway, I have no clue how coherent this review is going to be. It’s been approximately fourteen hours since I finished this book, so all I can think is “Jude”. But first, let us peruse over that which I am perusing for entertainment:

What I’m Reading: St. Joseph of Arimathea at Glastonbury, and my copy, sticky-note glory and all (Lionel Smithett Lewis — James Clarke Books)

What I’m Watching: Foundation (Apple TV+) — also, I may not have read the source material, but this show is breathtakingly good, the music is by Bear McCreary (which is cheating, honestly), and as creative brain food, it’s an experience to behold 😃

Okay, so my main thoughts are not extending far beyond Jude. Jude, the centre of this book’s gravity, is devastated by a brutal childhood and trying to endure adulthood without having actually dealt with that horrific childhood. Legitimately, I picked this book up because of a Katie McGrath compilation video of her literally only talking about books, and she mentioned that A Little Life was something absolutely worth reading — however! BBC’s Merlin’s Morgana says. Do not read it if you are not in a healthy mental headspace. And, as someone with ongoing anxiety and depression, both to varying degrees, I love a challenge. So, I started with a chapter every day — I do that with all books I find daunting to begin, large or dense titles or, basically, a giant leap into the unknown. This book is nearly 750 pages long and yo, I needed to know I wouldn’t give out. A chapter a day is good, unless we’re talking Requiem for a Dream in which, maybe just go with a couple dozen pages, for a book as little as Requiem, that middle chapter be fucking colossal. And then, really, ereyesterday (the day before yesterday, ereyesterday is a word I prefer — it’s archaic, too, so take that, Grammarly!), I read roughly 50% of the book, and yesterday, I finished it.

For starters, I didn’t just read my paperback — I was also gifted audiobook credits, so I bought the audiobook and listened to it as well. Sometimes, I did this when I couldn’t pick up the book; sometimes, I experienced both mediums together. The narrator for this 30-hour book, Oliver Wyman was exemplary as a narrator and handled all the different perspectives terrifically, while also punching in the emotions that are just, they were everywhere, man.

And hey, those emotions were interlaced with some of the most extraordinary prose. I feel I don’t talk enough about the prose part of literature these days — maybe that’s because I’ve been reading poetry a lot lately, and prose is… not poetry. Perhaps it’s because the prose is not as much a priority for a lot of literature, though I am not by any means qualified to quote anything about that, so… I don’t know. Prose was pretty.

One thing I did notice after I had finished and was reading other people’s thoughts was that A Little Life had a controversial place in the world of Great Gay Novels. Some call this the Great Gay Novel. Others say there’s not enough to justify that fact. Me, I do wish there had been more love for the most decidedly gay of the four main characters, JB — this story follows four best friends growing older and living their best attempts at life in New York, probably should have mentioned that sooner — but overall, I saw this as a book simply about four friendos, none of whom happened to be straight. Perhaps I didn’t read much into this because I am so invested in reading about how writers handle mental health. Both accurate LGBTQIA+ rep and accurate mental health rep are overwhelmingly vital and I want all of it, but on a personal preference front, I am going to look firstly at how a writer handles mental illness and mental health.

And I won’t lie, as it stands, I feel a level of conflict. For 97% of this book, I love the MH representation, it was… honestly, I got little other than good soup. And I won’t go into spoilers here, but I ended this book genuinely grieving. Someone on Goodreads called A Little Life misery porn, and I wouldn’t go that far, but misery, ye hath found a home. Another person simply started their review with ‘fuck this book’, and I agree. I mean, they rated it one-star, which is slightly less than my five-star rating, but yeah.

I do wish they’d given more love to psychiatrists/psychologists, though, I’ll give you that, Goodreads reviewer strangers; I would not be nearly in the same boat without my psychologist, with whom I will be discussing this book next Wednesday. (I will also be discussing Vikings because I cried over that too.) A bad psych will screw you up. A good psych, and I have a great one, will help you be a better person, a healthier person, and I am a healthier person because of my time getting the help I need. Will I ever be cured? Fuck no. But it’s not about getting cured of mental illness; it’s about learning to live with it and thrive despite it.

But I will say, there is nothing quite like standing between your fam as you’re doing dishes, and listening to beloved characters die, and trying not to cry into your kitchen sink. I am not going to say who, only that there is a… surprising death total? No spoilers, but tissues, please.

Really, though, this book is about Jude and his attempts to heal and overcome just… yeah, sorry, I need a moment.

Note: this book features sequences of sexual assault, self-harm, and attempted suicide. If these are subject matters that will bring you distress, I do not recommend this book for you. I wish you every peace and love in your life.

I wouldn’t argue against reading via audiobook; because sometimes, there are moments where you’re sitting there, experiencing genuinely harrowing moments, and being able to cover your face without losing your spot is nice. However, I also don’t think I’ve endured a literary piece and been reduced to “oh no, oh no, oh no no no” as many times as with this book.

Misery porn? No. Am I emotionally okay? No. Is this a book to read while depressed?

No. I won the challenge, but yeah, no. I don’t recommend it. I’m laughing while I’m writing this because I only have myself to blame. Am I endorsing this book well?

Probably no. But I will say that this story is genuinely moving, rich, beautifully written, and worth every cent I spent both via gift credits on Audible and via an online shop. If you’re prepared to deal with feeling feelings at the end, then I cannot recommend this enough.

To, you know, not depressed people. If you’re like me, tell people around you that you’re reading this. Brutal book, but incredibly meaningful. I might not have enjoyed it, per se, but I loved it, and I would not take back having picked this up. Honestly, I think the best endorsement I can give A Little Life is this: I realised that the spine might be breaking, and I loved this book so much that I let it happen. Me. To my book. And I still have no regrets.

Anyway. I might return to this book again in a couple of months and review it once I’m a bit clearer-headed, but I figured, what fun could I have in reviewing a book that brought me to tears!

So yeah. 5/5, another late-year read that has left me to suffer (Song of Achilles still gets me, I still have a sticker on my laptop of ‘What has Hector ever done to me?’ so I will never be free of my literary trauma). Where it’ll end up in my overall 2021 rankings — as I think I’ll do a Top reads of 2021 — I have no idea.

Oh goodness. The song ‘Stuff We Did’, which plays in Up when Ellie dies, has just started, so I’m gonna stop now. Wow. My psychologist will be so proud. Until next time!

— Charis.