I've always considered myself pretty tough when it comes to reading. By that I don't mean difficult to please (I'll happily read anything from Airforce Wives to Tolstoy) but more, difficult to freak out. I'll get scared by scary books, certainly, and grossed out by gross ones, but I can take it, right? I'm a complete wuss about movies, but books, no problem.
Here is what I am reading now.
It's not that I'm scared, exactly, or censorious. I'm just…uneasy. I recognize that she's trying to grapple with the whole idea of morality and evil and moral responsibility (at least I think I do) but it feels, to me at least, that it's not quite getting through. Diana began to read this and abruptly stopped, and wouldn't say why. I went in to see what shook her, and it's been a somewhat interesting journey but discomfiting. I know I should probably wait to write about it until I've finished, and I can see what the author is really up to. And truly, I think dark humor and an exploration of the less-than-pure impulses we have is all to the good—Roald Dahl, Lemony Snicket—but there's something here that doesn't feel so good to read about. And I'm just not sure what I think.