Okay, I’ve been reading (or maybe more so, trying to read) “A Little Life” by Hanya Yanagihara. The story follows four young men trying to make a life for themselves in New York. And this is by far the longest book I have ever attempted to read… I’m talking over 800 pages. I know for some bookworms that’s nothing, but I am not a bookworm. Possibly an aspiring bookworm, but 800 pages is about 500 too many for my usual taste. 

Why am I reading it then, you may ask? Well, it’s been on my list forever, and I decided I am going to try and read it. I’m pretty headstrong, can’t you tell? I’m not going to lie, though, this is also the hardest book to get into and stick with. It’s not a romance or spicy book where you’re anticipating the love interests getting together. It’s not a thriller where you’re shocked with every twist and turn. It’s a mundane book where you’re reading about the lives of four men in New York. It seems like the ultimate “turned off” book for a girl in her twenties.

 

Some may say to stop reading it, but I am just not that person. Apparently, this book is one that will “rip your soul out and crush it” because it’s so sad. Maybe I fell into the hype? I wanted a sad book, so I guess I picked a good one, but I wanted the sadness faster (such a typical American). So far, there have been sad parts, but the more I read (which is maybe 10 pages on a good day), the less my interest is. The intricate story of each character and how in-depth the book is, I could see how, eventually, when sad stuff happens, it will rip your soul out. But for now, there has been no soul ripping, none of the sort. I’ve heard that around page 300 is when things go “gloom and doom”, but I honestly don’t know if I’ll make it. 

There are days when I don’t know if I want the sadness anymore, and I ponder throwing away the book. At the same time, it takes me so much longer to read it because I’m trying so hard to visualize the characters’ lives. So much happens on one page, which means there’s 800+ pages to visualize and soak in. It seems hard to get into the world the author is trying to describe because there’s so much in each of the characters’ lives. If I were to describe it, it’s an unstimulating book, but somehow at the same time, I enjoy it a little. 

I do like reading about their lives. It’s fun to read things that have more of a “real life” scene or scenario, but I feel agony about how long it takes me to read each page. It’s also agonizing waiting to see what or how the author is going to twist it (eventually in like 300 pages) to make it so depressing. And honestly, it might be so depressing that I won’t be able to finish it because of that aspect too. I feel like I’m in a lose-lose situation with this book. But am I going to stop reading it? Probably not… I have to know why it’s so sad. I know I will feel so accomplished if I finish it too. I would also like to give an update on it when I eventually finish this grievous book. Maybe my opinions will change? Or maybe I’ll tell you to never read it? Who knows, but that’s all for now!

-P