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reesepective 's review for:
We Need to Talk About Kevin
by Lionel Shriver
We Need to Talk About Kevin is one of those books that slaps you across the face, makes you sit down, and demands your attention. It’s the story of a high school shooting, but not from the typical point of view. Instead, we get the story through the eyes of Kevin Khatchadourian’s mother, Eva Khatchadourian, in a series of letters to her estranged husband, Franklin Plaskett. We watch Eva Khatchadourian try to make sense of her son who at 16 takes out 11 of his classmates, a teacher, and a cafeteria worker in a meticulously planned rampage. Let me tell you—this book doesn’t pull any punches.
Now, let’s talk about the characters. Oh boy. I don’t like a single one of them. Not Eva Khatchadourian, not Franklin Plaskett, not even Kevin Khatchadourian (and trust me, you won’t either). But that’s the thing—liking them isn’t important. Understanding them? That’s the key. Lionel Shriver’s writing is so masterful, these characters are so well-crafted, that even when I wanted to scream at all of them for their terrible choices, I still found myself tearing up for every last one of them by the end. How does that happen? Seriously, how does she make me feel so much for people I basically can’t stand?
The writing style can be a bit much for some readers. Eva Khatchadourian can be long-winded, she uses big words, and sometimes I swear she just won’t get to the point. There were moments when I was ready to tell her, “Enough with the letters, lady! We get it!” But that one-sided perspective—Eva Khatchadourian’s unfiltered, deeply flawed view of her family—makes the whole story so much more tragic. We never get the full truth, and that’s the brilliance of it. Is Kevin Khatchadourian just born evil, or did his mother’s struggles with bonding, her own emotional distance, help turn him into a monster? The ambiguity gnaws at you, and it’s impossible to walk away with any solid answers.
What I appreciate about Lionel Shriver is her brutal honesty when it comes to the realities of parenthood. Raising kids is hard, messy, and not as idealistic as we’re often led to believe. Eva Khatchadourian’s relationship with her husband Franklin Plaskett, as well as the contrast between their worldviews, only adds fuel to the fire. By the time you reach the halfway point, you realise the book is going to be relentless—walking you through Kevin Khatchadourian’s childhood, pointing out how awful he was at every single moment. I’ll admit, it started to wear me down a bit. At one point, I had to take a break because I was just over it... but then I came back, and I finished it in a few sittings. Because even though it’s exhausting, it’s always compelling. The dread that builds up in the last hundred pages? It’s palpable. You know what’s coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
In the end, We Need to Talk About Kevin is a hard read. It’s dark, cynical, tragic, and occasionally frustrating. But it’s also insightful, brilliantly written, and unforgettable. Lionel Shriver tackles difficult subjects—parenting, blame, the making of a monster—and does so in a way that sticks with you long after you’ve finished. If you can stomach the emotional weight, it’s worth every page.
Now, let’s talk about the characters. Oh boy. I don’t like a single one of them. Not Eva Khatchadourian, not Franklin Plaskett, not even Kevin Khatchadourian (and trust me, you won’t either). But that’s the thing—liking them isn’t important. Understanding them? That’s the key. Lionel Shriver’s writing is so masterful, these characters are so well-crafted, that even when I wanted to scream at all of them for their terrible choices, I still found myself tearing up for every last one of them by the end. How does that happen? Seriously, how does she make me feel so much for people I basically can’t stand?
The writing style can be a bit much for some readers. Eva Khatchadourian can be long-winded, she uses big words, and sometimes I swear she just won’t get to the point. There were moments when I was ready to tell her, “Enough with the letters, lady! We get it!” But that one-sided perspective—Eva Khatchadourian’s unfiltered, deeply flawed view of her family—makes the whole story so much more tragic. We never get the full truth, and that’s the brilliance of it. Is Kevin Khatchadourian just born evil, or did his mother’s struggles with bonding, her own emotional distance, help turn him into a monster? The ambiguity gnaws at you, and it’s impossible to walk away with any solid answers.
What I appreciate about Lionel Shriver is her brutal honesty when it comes to the realities of parenthood. Raising kids is hard, messy, and not as idealistic as we’re often led to believe. Eva Khatchadourian’s relationship with her husband Franklin Plaskett, as well as the contrast between their worldviews, only adds fuel to the fire. By the time you reach the halfway point, you realise the book is going to be relentless—walking you through Kevin Khatchadourian’s childhood, pointing out how awful he was at every single moment. I’ll admit, it started to wear me down a bit. At one point, I had to take a break because I was just over it... but then I came back, and I finished it in a few sittings. Because even though it’s exhausting, it’s always compelling. The dread that builds up in the last hundred pages? It’s palpable. You know what’s coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
In the end, We Need to Talk About Kevin is a hard read. It’s dark, cynical, tragic, and occasionally frustrating. But it’s also insightful, brilliantly written, and unforgettable. Lionel Shriver tackles difficult subjects—parenting, blame, the making of a monster—and does so in a way that sticks with you long after you’ve finished. If you can stomach the emotional weight, it’s worth every page.