A Little Life — Hanya Yanagihara [Review]

Trigger warning: everything (self-harm, sexual abuse, eating disorder, drug abuse, child abuse, domestic abuse, death, and probably much more).

A Little Life is nothing more than 720 pages of misery porn, masquerading as a nuanced insight into the life of someone whose lifeexperiences were so traumatic that even the most brutal acts of self-harm would offer themselves as a suitable escape. It is a combination of all the worst things you could think of, presented in an exaggerated story designed to trigger the reader into believing their fear of the content of the book is actually their love for it.

Or is it actually a story about love, heartwarming and heart-wrenching in equal measure? A tale about the intricacies of friendship between Jude, Willem, JB, and Malcolm, as they grow old with and without each other, written with such clarity and imagination that it will swallow you momentarily into a world that is as palpable as reality itself?

Honestly, I’m not sure which of the above it is. I think I think the book is written beautifully. Yanagihara has managed to find ways to describe feelings, thoughts, emotions, apprehensions, and actions in utterly unique ways, while still maintaining the sense that these descriptions were the most efficient and most appropriate choices. It is definitely long at 720 pages, and it lasts forever while rarely feeling like a drag. Some of the longer chapters were taking me several hours to finish, but I never felt my energy lapse. The chapters written from Harold’s perspective were, for me, some of the most powerful passages I have ever read (and he is almost certainly my favourite character here). For the majority of the book I was engrossed completely in the world Yanagihara had created. I wouldn’t say I was eager to read on and finish the book quickly; rather, I wanted to take my time to make it last as long as possible.

The story follows the lives primarily of four young friends, as already named above, from their formative years during University to old age and the inevitable. It is, however, truly Jude’s tale, and the majority of events are told either through Jude or in relation to him to some extent. The layering of Jude’s trauma in the book is, while absolutely devastating for the reader, quite possibly the book's most laudable quality, and is done so masterfully. The depiction of abuse Jude suffered (and inflicts upon himself) is extremely powerful at times — there were several moments where I found myself physically wincing, almost feeling the pain on his behalf. Even if you are not a victim of self-harm or the other abuse discussed, I guarantee you will feel this almost as though you had been.

The book wasn’t faultless though, with one glaring issue I will leave for last. That aside, many of the conversations were frustrating to witness. The book is full of the briefest of arguments, an angry comment immediately followed up by an apology. Jude harms himself, he sees Andy, Andy gets angry and shouts at him, they both apologise, Jude restricts his self-harm, he lapses and the series repeats itself. The repetition of Jude’s self-harming and these tiresome conversations with Andy became (with regret) annoying, and eventually began to lose the power they once held. I also found it difficult to picture them growing up in the first two thirds of the book, and there is little reference to any real world cultural events which is probably partly responsible for that.

This book is like the tape from the 2002 movie “The Ring”; it is not in your best interest to read it, everyone will tell you not to read this, and yet the curiosity of the human mind will ultimately prevail. This book will stain your soul, it will damage you permanently. I do not regret reading it, but it is impossible to recommend.