Regular price: $5.53
Buy Now with 1 Credit
Buy Now for $5.53
This is a debut novel by author Emma Glass and she has produced something extraordinary. Her writing is confident and bridges any gap between prose and poetry, with emotion portrayed often through alliteration and repetition of key phrases.
The story follows Peach, who has been brutally battered and left bruised one night, though it is never clear what has happened. Her thoughts meander over the incident and the consequences in which at one point she believes she may be pregnant.
The remainder of the book paints a graphic picture of the effect the trauma has had on Peach and how this is expressed by her in changes to her body shape, and in her perception of the ordinary things of life.
There are mythical and superstitious elements to Peach's damaged psyche, which you will need to experience yourself. I must admit that some of it escaped me, but this thin volume has such power and leaves the reader in no doubt of Peach's pain and the ultimate consequences.
It is quite unlike anything I have read before, and whilst I cannot claim to have fully understood it, it definitely is unique. Unfortunately it is an acquired taste so not everyone will appreciate the style.
1 of 1 people found this review helpful
I did really enjoy this, if enjoy is the right word. It’s brutal but lyrical and compelling. It’s also highly surreal, the author in I interview has played down the use of metaphor in the book, urging readers to consider it more literally, however it’s difficult to not superimpose the imagery on to real people and events. Ultimately this is why I’ve given 4 stars and not 5, I couldn’t consolidate the ending in my mind and it left me a bit unsatisfied. However it’s an unusual and beautifully written novella, the narration is excellent.
I can’t believe I’m abandoning a novella half-way through but I can’t take another minute of this book. In a word, it’s repulsive. It should carry warnings of its grotesque and distasteful content. I’m not easily put off but the prose made me feel physically queasy and I couldn’t see the point in continuing. All a bit gratuitous and try-hard if you ask me, like the bad product of a creative writing workshop.