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xach's review
5.0
You know those Facebook posts that sometimes pop up, so full of depressing or sad news that you feel bad pressing 'like,' but you want to show support for your friend?
This book is that feeling, in novel form.
It's not a happy book in any way. The narrative follows a woman on her killing spree, taking the lives of people who played a role in her current situation--missing her legs, permanently disfigured, drug-addicted, and with next to no recollection of who she is or what she's fighting for. Gonzalez does a wonderful job of portraying a female protagonist without making her either hyper-feminine or hyper-masculine. She's human first and foremost, with her gender only coming into play when it is germane to the narrative. There's none of the misogynist tactics that idiotic male writers think they should use when writing women, and the characterization gives none of the queues that she's a manifestation of the author's desires. She is the way she is because the story wouldn't work otherwise, and the story reveals her character in organic ways that never feel forced or ham-handed.
In the hands of a less skilled writer, this story could have felt clunky and stitched together poorly, but Gonzalez takes the series of events and weaves them together in a story told in three parts that never feel broken. If anything, I wonder if the section breaks were even necessary to the narrative, since it flowed so neatly together.
Similarly to how the narrative reveals backstory only when necessary, so too does the cityscape come into focus only piece by piece. There's no jarring intrusion by the author to paint a picture of the town, no abrupt stoppage of the momentum to explain what's *really* going on. If anything, Gonzalez seems to revel in holding the reader in a state of confusion. The character is confused, her memories intruding at inopportune moments, and never in ways that she'd want them to, and the reader is kept constantly off balance because of this.
The narrative also does a wonderful job of never sensationalizing or romanticizing the violence in the story. Make no mistake, this is an incredibly violent novel, with plenty of bloodshed, violence, and IV drug usage to make HBO executives salivate. But the reader never gets the idea that this is a hero's story, or that the unnamed female protagonist is the good guy. She makes it very clear to the reader (it's a first-person narrative) that she's physically ill when she kills people, but she feels that she has no choice.
Overall, while it's not a happy story, the novel is very effective in taking me on a journey to the dark and twisted places it wanted to take me. If this was a Facebook post full of woe and misery, I'd feel conflicted, but I'd still press 'like.' I feel that I can recommend this book to others, but only those of a stern enough constitution to not vomit while reading it.
This book is that feeling, in novel form.
It's not a happy book in any way. The narrative follows a woman on her killing spree, taking the lives of people who played a role in her current situation--missing her legs, permanently disfigured, drug-addicted, and with next to no recollection of who she is or what she's fighting for. Gonzalez does a wonderful job of portraying a female protagonist without making her either hyper-feminine or hyper-masculine. She's human first and foremost, with her gender only coming into play when it is germane to the narrative. There's none of the misogynist tactics that idiotic male writers think they should use when writing women, and the characterization gives none of the queues that she's a manifestation of the author's desires. She is the way she is because the story wouldn't work otherwise, and the story reveals her character in organic ways that never feel forced or ham-handed.
In the hands of a less skilled writer, this story could have felt clunky and stitched together poorly, but Gonzalez takes the series of events and weaves them together in a story told in three parts that never feel broken. If anything, I wonder if the section breaks were even necessary to the narrative, since it flowed so neatly together.
Similarly to how the narrative reveals backstory only when necessary, so too does the cityscape come into focus only piece by piece. There's no jarring intrusion by the author to paint a picture of the town, no abrupt stoppage of the momentum to explain what's *really* going on. If anything, Gonzalez seems to revel in holding the reader in a state of confusion. The character is confused, her memories intruding at inopportune moments, and never in ways that she'd want them to, and the reader is kept constantly off balance because of this.
The narrative also does a wonderful job of never sensationalizing or romanticizing the violence in the story. Make no mistake, this is an incredibly violent novel, with plenty of bloodshed, violence, and IV drug usage to make HBO executives salivate. But the reader never gets the idea that this is a hero's story, or that the unnamed female protagonist is the good guy. She makes it very clear to the reader (it's a first-person narrative) that she's physically ill when she kills people, but she feels that she has no choice.
Overall, while it's not a happy story, the novel is very effective in taking me on a journey to the dark and twisted places it wanted to take me. If this was a Facebook post full of woe and misery, I'd feel conflicted, but I'd still press 'like.' I feel that I can recommend this book to others, but only those of a stern enough constitution to not vomit while reading it.
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