A Little Life

A Little Life

by Hanya Yanagihara

Rating: 10/10

Very few books make me cry out loud. Internally, sure, a few have broken my heart, and safe to say I am no longer a whole person after a childhood of Charlotte’s Web and every last book in an epic series, but I don’t remember the last time I actually wept into my pillow mid-read... more than once. More than 700 pages long, don’t let it’s length and difficult content put you off, A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara knocked me down and I haven’t gotten back up since. I am recommending it to everyone I know; the checkout chicks in the supermarket, lads pumping iron in the gym, a guy on the street, strangers at parties, all shall know, all must know, regardless of first impressions, that this is a book you HAVE to read, no matter how much it hurts. It is a coming of age story following four diverse friends living in New York city: Malcolm, a struggling down to earth architect, JB, a cocky controversial painter of Haitian descent, Willem, a handsome actor with a heart of gold, and, most importantly, the little life we follow, Jude, a self deprecating, troubled litigator who will linger in your heart until you die.

In the beginning of the story, things seem pretty normal, the characters, having known each other since high school, lead social lives, attending parties and art galleries, are all cultured and have in-depth discussions about current issues. Reading on, you become aware that something truly horrific has happened in Jude’s past, rendering him slightly crippled, emotionally disturbed and, in a way, addicted to self-harm. Decades pass around the affairs, losses, tough breaks and big breaks of this group of friends, but it turns out each person’s biggest challenge is Jude. Suffering from an unspeakable past of sexual abuse and violence, he is a wounded man, visibly scarred and traumatised, and every time you think it can’t get any worse for dear Jude, Yanagihara just piles it on. Not exactly a beach read.

While the doom and gloom may not be selling it, there are happy parts. In fact there’s an entire section titled the Happy Years. And it’s beautiful. Through their struggles with success, the reader observes intense character development and the overwhelming tenderness of Jude and Willem’s relationship. I became extremely attached to Jude, following his little life from youth to old age. Fair warning; there are graphic descriptions of abuse, and the end holds little hope, triggering a great depression of weeping, but as soon as I dried that final tear, and popped a few blocks of chocolate, I realised that I had never read a book like this before, which is a rare and wonderful thing. Through the twisted darkness and disturbing cruelty there is beauty in the writing, the flaws of each character and the denouement in which we discover what happens to Jude and the people who love him.

On the whole, an exhausting book, but in the most satisfying way possible, and though it will rip you up inside, this masterpiece is worth the effort. I admire its ability to trigger conversation around homosexuality and self-harm amongst anyone who reads it. Read it and weep.

This article first appeared in Issue 1, 2017.
Posted 12:46pm Sunday 26th February 2017 by Jessica Thompson Carr.