It’s that old dilemma: how do you review a book when you didn’t enjoy it, but you know, objectively, that it is very good?
I’ll confess: my issue while reading this book is my own. This is a book written by a victim of abuse, but told through the imagined words of her abuser. It is triggering, rage inducing, heartbreaking, and stomach churning. It was also beautiful.
There was nothing but artistry in this book; somehow, the poisonous, abusive, cruel father becomes three dimensional and layered and his psyche is explored with the kind of skill that would make any writer envious. For most people, it would be impossible to revisit trauma so vivid and so raw and still look honestly and compassionately into the mind of the person who committed such cruelty upon you. Ensler not only does it, not only crafts a complex, rich character, she does it beautifully and with lyric, flowing prose that almost takes the stinger from the painful content. Key word: almost.
While I can’t help but laud Eve Ensler’s talent, that didn’t mean the book was enjoyable. It was explicit and painful, so much so that at one point, I really didn’t think I was going to be able to continue reading. The writing is triggering for victims of sexual abuse, but empowering, too: Ensler’s scathing honesty sears through every page. I cannot tell you that you will love this book: it is painful. I also can’t tell you not to read it. I believe everyone must. It’s so important. This story is more common than we know and Ensler makes you feel her pain. She brings the issue to life. Ultimately, no matter how hard to read, this was a must read. After all, I couldn’t look away, even when I was desperate to.
5/5
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