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While some good books are extremely difficult to get through, either because of the writing or the subject matter, it is not always the mark of a good book. Sometimes the most profound books are the ones that leave a mark on you because of how quickly you read through it, or how "digestible" its material was.

This book was nothing of the above, or in fact, it was probably the most difficult book I have ever read, not based on the subject matter - even though it was shocking to say the least - but because of the writing style.

I read the first ten pages and I thought this was going to be a good book, just because of the unique writing style and the difference of approach to the usual books. But I thought this could only last a couple of pages, right? Maybe it was just the narrator who will get into things more normal as the story progresses and unfolds...

But was I wrong to think this.

To give you a brief introduction the the writing style of over 200 pages, here is how the book begins:

"For you. You'll soon. You'll give her name. In the stitches of her skin she'll wear your say. Mammy me? Yes you. Bounce the bed, I'd say. I'd say that's what you did. Then lay you down. They cut you round. Wait and hour and day."

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Usually I would read the first sentence of a book and then decide if I want to buy and read it. But in this case, I bought the book just based on the blurb and the title. As I read the first couple of pages, it got increasingly difficult to follow the story. As noted by one of the reviewers on the back page, the book reads like the stream of the narrators consciousness. And this in itself is incredible, how could one even begin to write a book like this?

But then I struggled through 30 pages. It took me a couple of months to finish the book (not just because the book was difficult and slow to read, but because of other things happening in my life). But in the end, it was an incredibly difficult read because of the way McBride wrote.

I appreciated the style at first, but then it was too much.

And maybe I will be in the minority on this. As a lot of people have praised her writing in the book. And I agree to some degree, but where do we draw the line when the experimental becomes too much, too much for the reader to bare?

I struggled with the book, A Clockwork Orange, for the same reason. It is not that these books are not good, they are, but sometimes you really just want to read a book for what it might give you. And these books really push the limits of what the reader of a book should do.

But one can easily make the case, I should then just not pick up such books when I want to read for leisure.

And that is a very valid point.

But sometimes you do not know what you get until you read the first page. And by then you are already committed to read the entire book. At least, I am.

And thus I pushed through this book, labouring through the pages, and the sometimes incredibly difficult subject matter. (For there are scenes in the book that make you question humanity, as we as the reader get first hand experiences into the mind of a tortured girl.)

And in the end, I have to admit this book felt like a struggle, like a marathon. I am not glad that I read the book, by no means. I could have finished three or four other books in the time it took me to read through this work.

But it was a good change of pace, a slight deviation on my reading journey.

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Why do we even read books? Why do we go through the struggle? This is an interesting question to think about, and in some way, I do not think there will ever be an answer. But here we are, reading books that might be only a couple of pages long, or books that span over multiple thousand pages.

For we read to create new worlds and challenge our own.

Happy reading, and keep well!

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All of the musings and writings are my own, albeit inspired by this incredibly frustrating book. The photographs are my own, taken with my Nikon D300.

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The Fermented Philosopher's Library