This book is both very short and very beautiful. The
language used is extremely elaborate and artistic- and it works. Normally I’m
annoyed when language seems to be an overly frilly barrier towards actual interpretation
of the work – but this works because the visuals are clearly the main element
of this story. The beauty and artisty, the evocative mental images, the
powerful, heady emotions – these are why this book exists, why this story is
there
And it is extremely beautiful, it is very emotional. It’s
intriguing to follow not because of the story per se, or because of the
characters, or because of the conflict, but to see the imagery play out, so see
the scene being set, the emotions be evoked. This is all about theme and
aesthetic, of tone and appearance more than plot
But I’m left wondering what this is? Because is it a
story? Is it long enough to be a story? Does it have an established enough plot
and characters and world setting? It feels more like a snippet in a longer story,
even as a short story it feels so much like a part of something greater. It’s
more like an artistically crafted Vignette. An out take, a snapshot. The whole
feel of the story makes me think that it’s more about an artistically crafted
image more than a story. This is a scene, this is a display, a performance. It’s
an artistic craft of elaborate, beautiful, stylist language with an intriguing
concept and a lot of dark edginess.
It’s been pared down to just these elements with the rest
dispensed with. It kind of works here because it’s clearly what the point of
the book is. And it works as this. It really does – it is beautiful and stylish
and quite excellent to read
But is it a story? Is being a story the point?
I mean the plot revolves around the sacrifice a woman
made for her husband she loves and how that effects them
I know about his worries. I know about her despair. I
know a lot about the passionate love between them and the overwhelming sexual attraction.
I know about her fears and concerns and desperation. I know about the elaborate scenes they pass
through, the sexiness, the roughness, the violence, the darkness are all
abundantly clear.
I don’t know who they are. I don’t know where they came
from. I don’t know what they do. I don’t know what they’re doing from here. I
don’t know how their story will continue nor have I been expected to care. I
don’t know where this is set or even specifically when (beyond a vague sense of
Victoriana). I don’t even know if the male protagonist is actually possessed or
traumatised. And I don’t think I’m supposed to, but it does leave me bemused.
This book is “edgy” sexually. We see a lot of the main
female character being extremely, passionately sexual. She not only loves her
husband, but she finds him incredibly, passionately sexual and it’s not even
slightly sanitised. Her open sexuality isn’t “oh look at his manly arms” it’s
visceral and carnal and even talks about fluids in ways beyond a vague
reference and even includes masturbation
But a lot of the sex around her is depicted in a violent
manners. However mist of the sex is simply rough and fantasies – with a sex
club where consent is expressly included at the beginning. But then it also
seems to include some members who don’t get to say no and the way sex is
described is expressly meant to emphasise the violence and the imposition of
something a big strong man is doing to a woman, even with the expressly described
consent. There’s also a scene where our protagonist feels she has to offer sex
to a man to save her husband. He doesn’t force her, demand or even hint – but she
offers because she can think of nothing else she can offer.
This club also depicts bisexuality – but the underlying
tone is “oh look how perverse this is”, with faceless, nameless people having
sex as set dressing.
I leave this book feeling it was an emotional, evocative
and elaborate read, but equally wondering exactly what and why I was reading
it.
