I read this book. It was quite unpleasant. Larry McMurtry wrote, "You cannot make art out of unredeemed pain," and I think that is this book's problem.
I can see and understand exactly why anyone would respond like this to the book. For me, I dunno. I finished the book, and enjoyed it through the unpleasantness. But life hurts, and pain is often never redeemed, and the book is so good at capturing the moral ambiguities of familes.
You can hate the plight of Sisyphus, doomed to rolling the rock up the hill to only have it fall back down, or you can like Camus look to the struggle itself as a form of redemption. However, if you liken the plight of the Bone People to that of Prometheus, doomed to having his liver eaten out every night, then you have me. No redemption there.
But personally, I like the light and warmth of fire, so thanks, Prometheus.
I ramble. There are connections between these thoughts and my thoughts about Hulme's book, but I'll leave them unexpressed. I'm on to a new novel now.
