What a wild ride. I picked this book up on a whim, its title intrigued me, and I’ve had a lot of good experiences with French authors in the past. It was certainly something a bit different, which I guess is what I was hoping for, though by God its harrowing to read.

The book is all written from the first person perspective of a mother who is seriously mentally unwell. She hates everyone and everything, except perhaps her son, though that seems to more be just toleration. Her life seems to be entirely made up of hate and lust, occasionally interrupted by her bowing to the pressure of domestic servitude, usually in the form of cooking a meal or fellating her husband.

It wasn’t until I read a section of the book aloud to a friend that it really hit home how brutal, course and horrible the sentences are in this book. There are point where every line is just driving home the hell that it is to be inside her head.

I did kind-of enjoy reading this though, its not often I put myself in the shoes of someone who’s outward actions are generally awful. In the book she does a lot of horrible stuff, like popping out her husbands erection at the beach while he’s asleep on the sun-lounger in front of a load of kids because she is jealous of him thinking about other women in his dreams. Or walking through a glass sliding door on purpose. Or making her son drink random dirty pond water and leaves in some deranged trip. On one hand that’s pretty bad, but most the other characters in the book are also a bit fucked as well, so in perspective its not too surprising really.

Anyway, not sure I’d really recommend this book to anyone, but I don’t think I regret reading it. Its fun to give in to a random impulse occasionally.