A Little Life- Hanya Yanagihara

contains some spoilers

Good writing for a book should be a basic necessity,  whether the plot exceeds it capacity or not, at least for the reader it should be a pleasant ride rather than a discomfited one when reading. I generally compare this with music where often people mistake lyrics for higher importance when in reality, the music production and voice over is indispensable. So to put it lightly, that would be pretty much be the summary of A Little Life. It was nine hundred pages of poignancy written in the most artistically structured manner with a subtle straightforwardness to it, making it at times a hard read. And while I hate annotating anything I read to the core, I did wish I had a pencil with me when I was reading this book. But this book made me realize that sometimes good writing can do no justice for a horribly plotted book.

Reading this book gave me  insight at things I never asked for. Predominantly because the lines between reality and fiction were blurred to extremes. And in the most generic fashion its all about what life can throw at you and how different it is for everyone and that no matter how hard you try to help someone to fix themselves, nothing will motivate that to the next step if they do not have the will to do it. One good example of no amount of therapy can heal you if you do not wish the best for yourself. In a world right now where therapy is often seen as a solution, this book throws light on how it actually works, rather that therapy can only help one decide what the next step could be. The issue arises with the fact that the author did  absolutely no research as to how therapy works or what it might be like for people with traumatic experiences. Rather she weaponizes this and makes a fun little gore show rather than actually sympathizing with the character. 

This ideology can be prominently seen with one of our main characters, who eventually loses his legs at some point in his life due to a terrible accident and the idea of having to consider himself as disabled disguts him, for he was not born with it and so from time to time you can see how he almost convinces  himself into this delusion that everything is fine. His own  refusal to accept the reality is much stronger than that of everyone trying to soothe him into his own identity and that they'd love him no matter what.

There are so many of these nuanced bits I wish I  could include but that would sort of ruin the purpose of this book.

And in all manner this book could have been a good read for me had it not had one of the bleakest story structure in the entirety of anything I read. This book which was supposed to follow four characters- their lives through adulthood, their break through into their career and more importantly, navigating their ways through friendship even when a lot of differences set them apart, whether be it culturally or in any other significant matter.

This was what this book claimed to be and that's what got me started with it.

And to my mere disappointment, it sadly fulfilled neither of those, at times making it seem like an incomplete story. The author is almost ruthless when  it comes to making her characters suffer and while I'm all up for the discussion of the how people deal with trauma, what message does it send across when you constantly make it seem like theres no hope for these characters? My major problem arises with the fact that almost everyone apart from the inner circle our MC has either constantly abused him or the few good ones we get are dead, resulting for him to take a major step by killing himself even if he had strong support system.

This book through and through shows that there is no hope for those who have dealt with domestic abuse, portraying extremities which might exist sure, but what's the point if all it can do is spread negativity in the context of "what true world really looks like" ? The author from time to time misuses this in the name of "giving awareness" to the situation but it just looks she's pouring all her anger into a character.

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“… the pressure to achieve happiness felt almost oppressive, as if happiness were something that everyone should and could attain, and that any sort of compromise in its pursuit was somehow your fault.” 

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