2/5 stars
Very readably written (hence the extra star and bothering to finish it), but for a 700-page character study it’s impressive just how shallow all the characters are.
Every single one – from the principles to the supporting cast – has one defining characteristic, and one only. There’s so little complexity or depth they may as well all be described as deeply as the two characters known throughout only as “black Henry Young” and “Asian Henry Young”.
There’s Withdrawn Trauma, our hero – the life of the title – defined purely by his childhood abuse, and still acting like a child decades later. Selfish, closed-minded, suspicious. Worthy of pity, certainly – but it’s hard to see why so many other characters deem him worthy of so much loyalty for so long, in the face of so much predictable nonsense. Normally after spending 700 pages with a character you empathise with them. Not this guy, despite having winced through scene upon scene of abuse and suffering.
There’s the three friends, Compassion (who, at least, briefly shows signs of developing some complexity where Compassion briefly turns to Conflicted), Obvious Unrequited Secret Admirer, and Architect (supposedly one of the core group of four friends at the heart of the story, but with no personality beyond his career).
There’s also Ineffective Father-figure, always wanting to help but never quite knowing how. There’s Doctor, who inexplicably keeps staying on call 24/7 – unpaid too, in America! – for one of the most difficult, selfish patients anyone could ever hope not to encounter. And then there’s Violent Rapist, Manipulative Rapist, Psycho Rapist, and a succession of other anonymous rapists undeserving of description.
And it’s still astonishing, 700 pages later, that a woman was able to write such a long novel without a single substantive female character.
Plus, it’s incredibly predictable. In the final quarter I found myself actively laughing as it unfolded, because everything was so obvious. No surprises at all.
But worst of all, this is a novel that exists to smother the concept of hope for change and redemption. To confirm the worst suspicions of the traumatised and suicidal. To encourage the suicidal to go through with it. It’s repeated message is that things don’t get better – at least, not for long. It’s Keynes’ “In the long run we’re all dead” in brutal, unforgiving, waffling novel form.
It contains nothing positive, says nothing new or substantive, is packed with stereotypes, and, considering the subject matter, is deeply irresponsible.
Tempted to take that second star off now, TBH.