Book Review: Novelist as a Vocation by Haruki Murakami

By Fayth Simmons

In Novelist as a Vocation, acclaimed long-time writer Haruki Murakami lends the reader an intimate glance into the purpose and process behind the art and science of storytelling. Functioning as a sort of instructional memoir, Novelist as a Vocation allows Murakami to showcase his thoughts regarding the factors, both innate and practiced, that he feels have allowed for his continued success within the realms of writing and publishing. With a career spanning over four decades, he has gathered a wealth of knowledge pertaining to the inner workings of the industry and has developed an understanding of what he feels constitutes a successful methodology towards writing a novel.

Using thematically categorized essays to deliver his thoughts, Murakami touches on topics important to the writing life in an objectifiable way that is succinct but not without empathy. Taking care to note that his thoughts are personal to his own methods and style of working, he shares insights relating to his daily writing practices and overall lifestyle while ruminating on the trajectory of his career thus far. He describes what he feels are the common denominators of the typical writer, and places emphasis on the time-consuming and oftentimes intangible aspects of the nature of writing.

Murakami’s delivery is thoughtful and well-aimed towards the aspiring writer, though, they should not be considered limited in its potential reach towards a less specific population. His musings on identity, purpose, and language speak to universal longings and considerations. This is a purposeful work rooted in a strong sense of personal awareness by way of Murakami, and the result is both insightful and enlightening.

Exploring the nuances of his career, he translates and projects his summations onto the page in a humble way that resonates. He is sensitive to the impalpable hurdles that face those wishing to express themselves through the stylistic imagery of the novel, as it exists as a physical vehicle of refined communication. Murakami describes the workings of such a vehicle, how he has utilized it, and how he has personally understood its function within the wider bounds of society.

Novelist as a Vocation is representative of Murakami’s reflections in such a way that so often epitomizes the memoirist form—each essay leaves the reader with a stronger sense of the writer behind the words and the context is extracted from within personal rumination and indirect instruction.

Thank you to Penguin Random House for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Cyclettes by Tree Abraham

By Fayth Simmons

Ottawa-born author Tree Abraham’s novel Cyclettes is a genre-bending compilation of brilliant poetical musings and visual explorations considering the mundanities and intricacies of life from the vantage point of a writer who is both incredibly self-aware but also consciously questioning such awareness. Utilizing the motif of a bicycle to consider the cyclical and forward-moving patterns of modern life, Tree Abraham eloquently yet playfully provides a narrative window into the experiences that quantify aging into an abstract notion of adulthood.

Cyclettes is a sensitive and thought-provoking book that could arguably be characterized by its innate ability to match language to feeling via powerful emotive translation. The challenges of growth are given voice, and through such prescribed narration, they are made relatable. As an author, Abraham has a distinct tone that is both clear and objectively effective, but also simultaneously sympathetic and inventive. She is honest in her portrayal of a dynamic lived experience and generous in her translation of that experience.

The original and largely experimental format of Cyclettes allows for diverse contemplation of the content within. Text is accompanied by various pieces of artwork and diagrams that help to illustrate and elaborate upon the main themes of Abraham’s work and pull the reader along with the motion of the created narrative. Due to this organization of content, the book is accessible—philosophical reflections are mirrored within tangible elements, allowing for larger-than-life concepts to be unified within a cohesive whole. At just over 200 pages, Cyclettes is a lyrically dense, approachable read, and highly relatable. Combining dialogue with internal rumination, and maps with photographs, Abraham successfully redefines what characterizes a novel.

The resultant product is resolute in its portrayal of journeying towards the vagueness that so inherently approximates identity and the personal understanding of retaining meaning within the modern world.

Thank you to Book*hug Press for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Up the Coast by Kathryn Willcock

By Fayth Simmons

In Up The Coast, author Kathryn Willcock takes a deep dive into the complex and illustrious chapters of her childhood, spent in logging camps off of the rural BC coast. With emotive prose and clear narration, Willcock describes a rugged and wild existence, and highlights the trials and tribulations of everyday life in Orford Bay and beyond. Set within a land of unparalleled natural beauty, the logging camps provided a home base for Willcock’s family and all of the loggers. Such beauty, however, came at the cost of isolation and sometimes danger—with grizzlies as close neighbours, almost consistent financial strain, and challenging weather patterns, there was no shortage of challenges to the logging lifestyle, and many obstacles stood in the way of company success. Through Willcock’s gaze, however, and her remembrance of childhood, the reader is able to see through the challenges of such a life to the equal doses of joy and freedom that it provided.

The novel presents as being almost autobiographical in nature, with Willcock providing historically accurate depictions of life in Orford Bay, and her family’s journey to arrive there. The narration allows the reader to be carried smoothly through the novel, and at just over 200 pages, it is a fairly fast read and accessible to a wide variety of readers. Witty observations are accompanied by doses of harsh realism, though the overriding tone is one of warmth and authenticity. Willcock successfully condenses vivid landscapes into her writing, and each character holds equivalent depths of layered emotion. At its core, this is a novel about family, and the resilience required to etch out an alternative life amidst the sometimes unforgiving elements of the BC wilderness. Willcock’s capacity for storytelling shines through, and her thoughtful approach has resulted in a novel that is both eye-opening and enjoyable.

Thank you to NeWest Press for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: How to Hold a Pebble by Jaspreet Singh

By Fayth Simmons

In this collection of poems, Jaspreet Singh provides a narrative stage for an examination of the human in relation to the greater world. Using exploratory form, each of his pieces takes on a differing function to illustrate the place of humans in the continual development of the Anthropocene. The poems touch on the glaring fragility of existence and speak to the visceral understanding of what it means to be a writer in the current age, with the constant grasp of two separate worlds—the visible one, from which inspiration is drawn, and the created one, in which ideas are processed and tossed around before entering into the bounds of the former one.

Singh’s collection is potent, truthful, and emotional. Sorrow and pain infuse narrations on colonization and climate change, and frustration accompanies musings on capitalism, but despite these heavy touchstones, the poems are not hopeless. Singh is able to expertly weave sorrow through lines of quiet joy, and feelings of unrest are considered only in equal measure with feelings of peace and contentment. In this way, the collection is balanced, with clear questions and intentions.

There is a sincere wisdom and beauty to each poem in this collection, which is doubled by the symbolic image of the pebble: ancient, clear, and untameable. The reference to such an object cannot simply be stylistic—instead, Singh asks the reader how they may relearn how to hold the pebble, insinuating a need for a greater degree of thoughtfulness in regard to the human role of stewardship over all things that we have so carefully tied to ourselves and our linear continuum. There is a sharp intellect present here, and an undeniable lyrical sensibility, which transcends from the page and begs to be considered.

Thank you to NeWest Press for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: At Last Count by Claire Ross Dunn

By Fayth Simmons

Written in a first person perspective, At Last Count serves as an important narrative portrayal of an underrepresented mental illness in a contemporary, character-driven novel. It is definitively Canadian, and more specifically, Ontarian, and the landscapes and cityscapes of small-town Amherst Island and Toronto are successfully depicted, serving as appropriate backdrops which the narrative rests upon. The novel centers around Paisley and the internalized thoughts and externalized struggles that she faces as her life is uprooted and she is forced to re-examine and come to terms with traumatic aspects of her past. Paisley is a birder, and birds serve as characters themselves, being objectively central to the novel, and also function as symbols. Their role is surprising and yet also imperative to the identity of the main character. They aid heavily in shaping the setting and add a pleasing additional element.

At Last Count is presented as an amalgamation of genres, blending romance with literary fiction. There is a lot to be gained from Ross Dunn’s work—the characters, though well formed and solid in themselves, arguably serve as representations of larger and more complex themes. The novel is a work of fiction but is very much educational and accurate in its portrayal of obsessive-compulsive disorder and of the varied behaviours of Ontarian birds. The author’s style is straightforward; it is emotive and yet not excessively emotional. Her descriptions are strong, and the linear narrative is clear and concise with room enough left for empathetic rumination by the reader. This is an uncomplicated, enjoyable read and a very important one.

Slightly dramatized character development did, however, detract slightly from the strength and relatability of the narrative, and the conclusion, though seemingly “full-circle” in its arc, lacked some elements of realism. The slightly typical timeline leaves little to reader interpretation, which simplifies the narrative as a whole and causes for a lesser degree of originality.

The incorporation of important and sometimes underrepresented themes, and the distinctly Canadian backdrop, however, add beneficially to the narrative, and as a result it is able to secure the focus of the reader successfully. At Last Count is a worthwhile contemporary read, and a resonant one, and the narrative is able to successfully give a voice to some rarer themes within literature.

Book Review: The Hands by Marty Gervais

By Fayth Simmons

The Hands by Canadian poet, journalist, and teacher Marty Gervais features a collection just shy of forty poems, in which life and its complexities are narrowed down into minute and thoughtful details. It is within these smaller details that Gervais best illustrates the import of lasting universal themes.

His collection is separated into three main parts, titled “Language of the River,” “His Father’s Work,” and finally, “The Hands.” A single poem serves as the epilogue, and another as the prologue. The layout is pleasing and meaningful in and of itself. The title is characteristic of the role that doing plays in the process of creating art, life, and ultimately—identity. In reference to the symbolism and function of the fingerprint, in that each is individual and key to identification, Gervais utilizes the idea of hand characterization to describe the innate components of the self; in the third part of his collection, he transfers this philosophy directly into the narrative descriptions of various significant people, from Mother Theresa to Rosa Parks. Within these portrayals, he highlights their humanity and the poignant details that compose their states of being. Using language, he is able to shine a singular light upon his subjects in a way that acknowledges the surrounding shadows without allowing them to distract from meaning and intention.

His narrative pieces are very dynamic—both objectively simple in their telling, and yet each word is eloquently placed to suit the tone of the work. Gervais writes and ruminates upon a variety of themes, focusing most prominently upon the movement of time and place and the importance of doing, in a sense of both the physical and the abstract. In language that almost murmurs, he aligns his words and the spaces between them to shape the page and the mind of the reader. He is intentional and works to place heavy emphasis upon the cruciality of detail (which is fitting for a poet, as mentioned within the introduction by author and professor Bruce Meyer).

By incorporating detailed musings, sometimes so specific as the mention of a teacup balanced precariously atop a ruin of disorder, Gervais centres his reader, giving a meditative experience of sorts. His collection is successful not because of its subversive and conceptualized intellect, but because it is so easily and almost effortlessly consumed. Each poem resonates at some mundane or existential level. For example, in “Walking Distance,” Gervais uses simplistic and yet delicate language to describe a universal feeling of overwhelm and the peace that might be recognized amid such states of unrest. It embodies longing and release in equal and opposite measure. And this is perhaps what Gervais does best. In minimized tones he is able to prescribe plot to his poetry; in each poem, there is linear relation, with a concrete beginning, middle, and end. This element of finality likely allows for a greater appreciation of the themes which he touches upon in his work—the reader is left satisfied, with closure established, having benefitted from Gervais’s power over language.

Thank you to Guernica Editions for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Gigglepuss by Carlie Blume

By Fayth Simmons

Content warning: reference to sexual misconduct/assault

Gigglepuss, the debut poetry collection of Canadian author Carlie Blume, works to contrive of an adulthood shaped by the past traumas of a checkered youth. Nostalgia features prominently within Blume’s collection, but personal events are recounted as if through an objective lens rather than an inherently subjective and individualized one, being pulled as they are from the author’s childhood. Patriarchal norms are challenged from a vantage point of dynamic youth, and Blume highlights her experiences in a way that projects the truth of them upon the reader without vitiating such truth with the addition of emotional influence. Heavy themes are ruminated upon, such as femininity, sexual abuse, capitalism, environmental destruction, and self-identity and worth in the face of past traumas. Blume explores these topics with simplistic and sharp narration; the description, though lucid and expressive, is arguably distant, despite the emotional potency of the overarching themes.

Blume has a clear and convincing voice, and is not remorseful or overly melancholic in her use of language. It is perhaps for this reason that her poetry is effective in its communication of loss and equally of love. Because poetry is such a subjective genre, it can be difficult to quantify the measure of a collection’s success, but in Gigglepuss, the messaging is not lost to abstraction—it is vivid in its imagery, and evocative in the author’s re-working of a present identity from past images. As Blume comes to terms with multifarious familial and social dynamics and reflects on innate values of youth, she perhaps begins to compose a working understanding of the events that have precipitated her rise to adulthood and parenthood, and her attitude towards them. As a result, her collection is vibrant and layered in its realistic depiction of the female experience, and functions as an ode to self-awareness and actualization atop historical and cultural inhibitions.

Thank you to Guernica Editions for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Just Kids by Patti Smith

By Fayth Simmons

Content Warning: Reference to Drug Use

Just Kids, the 2010 memoir of legendary American artist Patti Smith, follows the timeline of Smith’s ascent into fame, from her early years spent exploring the bohemian faces of New York City to the solidification of her place within it. Just as the book ruminates upon the life of Smith herself, it acts as a tribute to the late Robert Mapplethorpe. 

The pair first meet in New York, form a close relationship, and grow into their artistic practices parallel to each other. Throughout the years, they provide for each other, acting as muse for the other, lifeline, and devoted dreamer. Theirs was a love story set against a backdrop of a charged and changing city. 

As their artistic practices evolve and their inspiration is continually drawn from widening circles, the identity of their relationship changes too—though challenged, it never disappears and arguably only grows stronger with each change of artistic direction. Robert begins to focus heavily on his photography, while Patti is drawn into poetry and the world of performance. The narrative describes the trials and tribulations that irrepressibly follow the path of courage and the monumental articulation of one’s own voice. 

As the book explores this timeline of ascent, the reader is drawn into both the overt and empathetically subliminal world of Patti’s as she works to understand herself and her art before finally coming to the conclusion that they are, in fact, one and the same. She reminisces on her relationship with Mapplethorpe—the necessity and import of it, and how it worked to shape both of them as people, contributing to shared sets of values and a dedication to the pursuit of creation (thus finding value within the practice). 

Just Kids is evocative and timely—a reverential narrative that gives homage to the essential pre-conditions of artistic genius. The overarching tone is not necessarily nostalgic but clear and refreshingly decided, even though it recalls certain times of indecision. Smith writes in tell-tale prose, painting vivid, atmospheric scenes of Manhattan in the 60s and 70s—people and places representative of a time of innate artistic growth. Her ability to come across as both emotive and yet stoic is admirable and arguably necessary to the success of the narrative, which may well be considered a classic of memoirs. 

Book Review: Circus of Wonders by Elizabeth Macneal

By Fayth Simmons

Set in a somewhat fantastical version of 1860s era England, Elizabeth Macneal’s newest work, Circus of Wonders, functions as an enthralling escapist novel. Although the setting promotes images of affluence and otherworldly beauty, with magic at the helm, the author appears to capitalize on themes of power, control, and identity. 

The novel centers largely around the character development of Nell, a 19-year-old girl from a small coastal village. Her life is a quiet one, with the companionship of her brother and father and her enduring love for the neighbouring sea. The villagers scorn Nell for her birthmarks—placed in a patchwork over her skin, they distinguish her as being someone ‘other,’ and as such, she is isolated. Her brother is set to be married, and facing his potential absence, she worries over what may become of her life. When Jasper Jupiter’s Circus of Wonders arrives in their small village, Nell’s peculiar appearance is discovered, and in an act of exploitation and betrayal, Nell’s father sells her off as a performer.

Though stung by her father’s disloyalty, Nell finds that she excels within the circus. Soon known as the ‘Queen of the Moon and Stars,’ Nell’s image is plastered across posters and she quickly gains fame. Through performing, Nell gains confidence and a newfound sense of ownership, both over her body and the circumstances in which she finds herself. She forms relationships and curates a community for herself—the likes of which she never experienced back home. When her fame overpowers that of the ringmaster, however, Nell’s place in the circus, and her marketed identity become threatened, and those closest to her must decide between competing sets of values. 

Featuring an array of diverse and interesting characters, each with their own internal conflicts that lend to the overall plot, the novel is able to paint an eloquent picture of Victorian-era England. The fantastical entwines with aspects of blunt reality, with the circus acting much as a theatrical setting upon which the protagonist is forced to embrace her natural-born identity rather than the various ones given to her by others. Macneal’s writing is sure of itself and successfully delivers a believable and immersive narrative, which contemporary readers are likely able to relate to despite the novel’s historical context. 

There is an allure given to the life of the circus through vivid description, though the reader is always aware that the main theme is arguably one of a more existential nature. Power plays are examined closely throughout the novel, and the balance between control and obsession is constantly being weighed – it is in the rejection of this balancing act that the protagonist is able to ultimately mobilize her capabilities and lend action to her values. 

Circus of Wonders might also be categorized as a comfort read, despite the presence of some darker conflicts, as the plot is overall a relatively positive one, with few twists or disruptions, and it allows for constructive character growth and development. 

Thank you to Simon & Schuster for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Mouth to Mouth by Antoine Wilson

By Fayth Simmons

Mouth to Mouth could be described as a story within a story as the main narrative occurs via ruminative storytelling. At the onset of the novel, the main character is assumed to be the man first introduced, who has just gotten off a red-eye flight from Los Angeles and is waiting for his connecting flight to Berlin. The reader is given a slight history on this character, for the sake of context, but his role becomes less dominating and much more observatory as the plot progresses, and he is not given a name. The real protagonist is introduced as Jeff, an old college acquaintance of the nameless man, and someone he remembers having admiration for. Meeting at JFK airport, the two men recognize each other, and Jeff invites his old peer to join him in the first-class lounge to reconnect as they both wait for their shared flight to arrive, which has been delayed. Once settled and after a brief catch-up, Jeff begins to tell a somewhat surreal story: an explanation of the timeline of his young adult life, which hinges and centralizes around one major event.

Shortly after finishing college, Jeff finds himself housesitting at a residence near the water. When jogging along the beach one morning, he notices a swimmer, obviously struggling to stay afloat. He is confronted equally with the glaring reality of the situation and his aloneness on the beach. Weighing his options, he decides to jump in after this person and pull them to shore, where he resuscitates them (hence the title, Mouth to Mouth). This person turns out to be a man named Francis Arsenault, a notary figure in the art world, and after saving his life, Jeff cannot seem to help but feel some connection to him. Chasing this feeling, even years after the event, Jeff tracks Francis down to the location of his art gallery in Beverly Hills, seemingly seeking validation for his actions—or closure. The rest of the story follows Jeff as his life becomes ever more entwined with Francis’ up until the notable ending. 

Antoine’s novel follows a conversational pattern—the reader is always aware, however intriguing Jeff’s narration is, that he is speaking to another person, and that they are still set within the airport. The plot of what is realized to essentially be Jeff’s life story is compelling and significant in its consideration of a person’s relationship to fate. It initiates a debate over whether an individual’s role in steering such a thing as fate might be active or passive, and how this possible choice may result in differing outcomes. The novel is well-written and direct in its delivery style, though not especially emotional, and successfully keeps the reader engaged. That being said, though it poses some deeper, more philosophical lines of questioning, the language is not overly lyrical. Instead, the author has delivered a solid, clear, and uninterrupted narrative that aids in objectively illustrating the nature of the characters and the conflict within. 

Blurring the lines between thriller and mystery, Mouth to Mouth serves as an entertaining and thoughtfully written work of fiction, interspersed with themes of morality. It requires fairly little of the reader—the reader holding a similar role to that of the unnamed man as he sits and listens to Jeff tell his story, every so often adding in a question. Ultimately, this novel is representative of a series of events which have culminated to form a single character—as Jeff relates his past experiences to another person, it is as if he is finally able to see and understand them for himself. This notion could also allow for the reader to connect more fully with the narrative, meditating upon the main themes of humanism, identity, and the manipulation (or lack thereof) of fate.

Thank you to Simon & Schuster for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review. 

Book Review: Because Venus Crossed an Alpine Violet on the Day That I was Born by Mona Høvring

By: Fayth Simmons

Because Venus Crossed an Alpine Violet on the Day that I Was Born by Norwegian author Mona Høvring (translated into English by Kari Dickson and Rachel Rankin) won the Norwegian Critic’s Prize for Literature, was a finalist for the Norwegian Bookseller’s Prize, and was included on numerous critics’ Best of 2018 book lists. In a first-person narrative, with an alternating timeline from past to present day, inclusive of flashbacks to childhood, a tale of two sisters is told, set against a fairy-tale-esque Scandinavian backdrop. 

Martha and Ella are very close in age, separated by just a year, and were very close in their younger years—until Martha left unexpectedly with a man whom she had supposedly fallen in love with. This abrupt separation is difficult for Ella, and she finds herself feeling slightly unhinged, as though her sense of self has been set off balance by the absence of her elder sister. Martha soon returns, however she is not the same person that she was at the time of her departure. After Martha spends some time in a hospital due to a breakdown, it is suggested that Ella accompany her for a stay at a hotel high up in a mountainous village. This hotel serves as a new and common ground where the two girls re-evaluate their relationship after an extended period of no real communication. 

Though this is a story of two sisters, serving as an exploration of the dynamic and sometimes difficult nature of relationships, it may also be classified as a tale of memory, attachment, and belonging. Both Ella and Martha are prominently featured throughout, but there is a definite focus upon Ella, and events are told from her perspective. The novel is largely descriptive of an internal monologue, as Ella works to understand her sister and the reasoning behind her seemingly untenable actions, but most of all she works to understand herself outside of her identity in relation to Martha. Ella’s stay at the hotel allows a window of time for self-reflection, and for the summation of twenty-two years of wondering and wonderment. As a whole, the narrative serves as a very thematic and well-versed exploration of crucial and contemporary themes (e.g., mental health, identity, relationships).

This is a short novel, and as such, characters are portrayed in their individuality but without full explanation; instead, the author leaves room for wonder—the reader is left to assimilate the knowledge of what is with all that is hinted at through word, action, or symbol. And there is a lot of symbolism. For all that the narrative is objectively based upon the relationship between sisters, the conversation is little and the internal thoughts are more. With limited speech and action, those that do occur are worth so much more. The significance of the barbershop, Ella’s chance meeting with the Salvation Amy soldier, and the presence of the graveyard alongside the chapel are all left to be considered. 

In addition, there is a whimsical, almost magical undertone to the narrative, which pays homage to  fairy tales. There is also an underlying aura of mystery—of vague enchantment and constant soft bewilderment. The mountains act as a beautiful mystery unto themselves, and the wintery backdrop gives the illusion of clarity amidst a heavy dose of cynicism. Very real emotions, and very real experiences and relationships, set against a backdrop of a peculiar glass hotel and its equally peculiar and enigmatic occupants, allow for the meeting of the real and the imagined as they work in synchrony to deliver a powerful and thoughtful narrative. 

Thank you to Book*hug Press for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

By Fayth Simmons

Content Warning: Reference to Sexual, Physical, and Emotional Abuse, Self-Harm, and Suicide 

A Little Life marks the second novel by author and editor-in-chief of T: The New York Times Style Magazine, Hanya Yanagihara. First published in 2015, it has become a critically acclaimed bestseller and recipient of multiple literary awards, including finalist standing in the running for the 2015 Man Booker Prize. The novel explores the dichotomy of humanity. Despite touching on traumatic themes of abuse, the overarching tone is not one of singular darkness—beauty is interspersed throughout, holding space between the characters and their relationships. Despite the trauma, there is love. Despite the loss, there is still life. 

The plot primarily follows the lives of four friends from the beginning of their friendship at college as young adults and into middle age. Though each of the four characters is developed individually, the context generally hinges upon the central character of Jude, a brilliant yet very burdened individual with a layered past. Though a successful lawyer in New York City, Jude suffers privately for reasons that are disclosed intermittently throughout the book in the form of flashbacks. He walks with a distinguishing limp and suffers from associated nerve damage in his spine. These are due, as he explains to his friends, to an unidentified ‘car injury,’ the consequences of which are felt throughout the remainder of Jude’s life. 

As the plot continues, the character development of the remaining group members centralizes upon their interactions with Jude, and their varying degrees of proficiency in understanding his complex identity. Willem, Malcolm, and JB are each very successful in their chosen fields. Willem emerges as a leading actor slightly later in life, after years spent doubling as a waiter, while Malcolm and JB find simultaneous accomplishment in their artistic pursuits—Malcolm as an architect and JB as a painter. Each tries to understand and care for Jude in their own ways, but Willem and Jude grow to form the closest relationship within the group, the bounds of which expand as the characters grow older and face the multiple realities of hardship and heartache. It is Willem who Jude grows to trust the most, and to Willem who he chooses to slowly divulge the pains of his mysterious past.

A Little Life follows a chronological, third-person narrative, which shifts to accommodate the varying perspectives of Jude, Willem, Malcolm, and JB as they build their separate lives, and yet, still, almost helplessly, circle around each other, endlessly searching for the various faces of love, purpose, and place. This third-person narrative is punctured intermittently by a first-person narrative, told from the perspective of an older version of Jude’s adoptive father, Harold, another key character within the novel, and one central to Jude’s experience of familial care. It becomes known later in the plot that Jude suffered from sexual abuse as a child, and this trauma haunts him as an adult. Despite his dark past, however, the book draws largely on themes of love and the overarching power of caring relationships. The complex dynamics between characters are analyzed to form the basis of the novel—a novel that is arguably breathtaking in scope, and technically brilliant, with poetical tones and sharp prose that together deliver a narrative at its best.