Beautiful and painfully heartbreaking with lots of disappointments.
After finishing A Little Life, I was at a loss for words. I cried in anger and disappointment at an ending I knew was coming but didn't want to accept. For weeks, I couldn't put the book down, obsessing over the pages, searching and hoping for some sort of light at the very end—something positive. This book was masterfully written, taking me on a journey of emotions with each page. I really enjoyed the writing style where Hanya Yanagihara alternated between the present and the past, giving readers more insight and backstory for some of the characters.
However, this is not the book I thought I was going to read. Social media sold it in a completely different way. When I started reading, I realized that this wasn't a queer-forward book following the lives of four best friends from college throughout their lives and careers in New York City. Instead, this is a book about Jude, a smart, delicate, and troubled individual who has suffered an unspeakable childhood far beyond my imagination. The author did an incredible job providing such detailed descriptions of Jude and the moments of his life. I really felt like I knew Jude. And to know Jude was to engage in a confusing battle of feeling profound sorrow for him while also being perpetually angry with him. Despite defying all odds to become the successful lawyer he was, Hanya Yanagihara just couldn't allow him to truly be happy. That, to me, was the saddest part of the book—not just for Jude, but for every significant character.
This was a lengthy book, and for good reason. We journeyed through the lives of the characters over the course of three decades, learning about their goals, struggles, and triumphs. The story is primarily told from Jude's point of view, but we also get the perspectives of those closest to him. This narrative technique answers questions and provides readers with a deeper understanding of the thoughts and emotions of the people around Jude. While Hanya Yanagihara detailed the story masterfully, I felt we deserved more insight into Jude's three best friends and the dynamics of their college years. The author emphasized the depth of their friendship, but we missed out on how it truly developed and evolved over time. Understanding the foundation of their bond would have added even more richness to the narrative and deepened our connection to these enduring relationships.
Three themes stood out to me while reading: trauma, friendship, and love. All recurring and intertwined throughout the book. Trauma was the most challenging to stomach. Hanya's descriptions of the mental, emotional, and physical trauma that Jude endured made me absolutely sick to my stomach. The detail she went into made you feel Jude's pain. Page after page, chapter after chapter, we couldn't escape the horrifying trauma. I'm not sure if the author did this to show us what Jude went through his entire life—never truly being able to escape mentally, physically, and emotionally. Despite the amazing people in his life who showed him unconditional love, kindness, patience, and understanding, his trauma never allowed him to truly accept any of it. It was sad to witness. All I wanted to do was shake him and say, "Look at everything you've accomplished and have. You must see all the good and love for you. Why can't you accept it? Why, Jude?" How many times can someone tell you before you believe it? And we learned, I learned, that he never would. He never did. I felt bad for feeling angry at Jude, knowing his haunting past and that he was broken and innocent in all of this, a product of his environment. What made me feel even worse was that it didn't end with Jude. Hanya Yanagihara made so many people suffer in this book, and I couldn't wrap my head around why. Why so much? Why his friends too? It was hard as a reader to go through these emotions so strongly and over and over again.
Friendship and love go hand in hand. How does one measure friendship or love towards another? What makes a good friend? Who defines whether someone is being a good friend or not? If we really love our friends, what are our limits? Can we love from afar? These were all questions that ran through my mind continuously while reading the book. Yes, you could call Andy, Willem, JB, and Malcolm his friends. They loved him, cared for him, spent quality time together, and made memories together, but I couldn't help as the reader to think they were all bad friends to Jude and Jude to them. Not bad friends in the sense that they disrespected each other or weren't supportive, but bad friends in the sense that despite everything each and everyone did for Jude, he never truly let anyone in. He was always lying, dodgy, and not forthcoming, whereas everyone who was close to him was. And yes, I feel bad being annoyed with him because of his sensitive and horrific past, but I thought it was so unfair to all of those who cared and loved him and showed it time and time again. If we are best friends, how can you not trust me? Do you not love me the way I love you? Do you constantly lie to those you love and are friends with? Can you consider yourself a good friend when you are rarely honest? That was one of my biggest issues with Jude's character. He was surrounded by loving, encouraging, warm people but just couldn't find it in himself to give what he received in abundance from those he claimed to love so much. To know someone for decades but to never truly know them.
Even though Jude's secrecy bothered me, I understood why he was like that, regardless of how much I wanted him to overcome the baggage he had been carrying all his life. Who I thought were the real enablers were his friends. They essentially allowed Jude's destructive behavior because they were too scared of his reaction. Andy and Willem were able to get the most out of him, but it came because Jude was essentially threatened by both of them with hospitalization. There were a few moments highlighted where you saw Andy, his doctor, and Willem, his best friend turned partner, trying to be better friends to Jude by pressing him on some issues that concerned them. I was proud in those moments because I am the type of friend to tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear, or nothing at all because I am afraid of the response. I don't think people are good friends to those they care about if they allow destructive behavior. Not saying anything to a friend who is hurting themselves because they don't know how to address it. Being best friends with someone comes with responsibilities to want them to do and be better and be willing to go the extra mile for them. If Jude loved his friends enough to let them understand his struggles and what he was continuously going through, would they have responded differently? Would they have stepped up if confronted head-on, doing all they could to encourage Jude to get treatment, letting him know that his actions were not just affecting him but them as well? Despite most of them not truly knowing the extent of it, they always knew something was up, and they didn't press. And I think they should have. I want to believe as a reader that something could have changed for the better—that he would see his friends knowing about his traumatic past and telling him they still choose him, that they still love him, probably even more. It left me with the question: was Jude ever capable of loving anyone and truly accepting love? Because to me, to love is to be vulnerable. And he couldn't. And his friends—I think about if I was dealing with something, would I want the people closest to me to not bother to get me to open up so they could potentially help me work through it or for me to know I'm there for them? Is being a good friend not making any waves in the relationship? I don't doubt that they were friends and loved each other, but it makes you look at friendships a lot differently—about the level of the friendship, about the relationship not being equal amongst the friends.
Reflecting on A Little Life has made me reconsider the nature of friendship, love, and the impact of trauma. The book presents a complex and raw depiction of how deeply intertwined these elements are and how they shape our lives and relationships. It challenges readers to think about their own connections and the ways they support or fail those they care about. Despite the heaviness of the story, it serves as a powerful reminder of the resilience of the human spirit and the profound effect that compassion and empathy can have on those who are suffering.
In the end, A Little Life is a testament to the enduring strength of the human heart in the face of unimaginable pain. While it is a difficult and often heartbreaking read, it is also a profoundly moving one that leaves a lasting impression. The book's exploration of trauma, friendship, and love is both harrowing and enlightening, making it a poignant narrative that stays with you long after you’ve turned the final page. For those willing to confront its emotional depths, A Little Life offers a rich and rewarding experience, highlighting the complexities of human connection and the ways we strive to heal and find solace amid life's darkest moments.