Years ago an acquaintance recommended me to read Hanya Yanagihara’s novel A Little Life. I don’t remember the year, but if the book had already achieved its best-selling status at the time, the acquaintance certainly didn’t hint at it.

Later I effectively tried to read the book, both in its original language and in Dutch. Both times I gave up. It wasn’t even a matter of persuading myself to finish it. I didn’t seem to be able to get past the first 100 pages or so with the introduction of the setting and the characters.

At the beginning of this year, I decided to give it another try. Instead of borrowing it from the library, I picked up my own paperback copy from a bookshop. Of course I was now also long aware what a sensation the book actually was.  Maybe those things helped me to not put it down again.

In fact, this time I finished the book within a couple of weeks. As countless others, I found myself being moved by the unspeakable trauma that the  enigmatic protagonist Jude carries with him as we follow him and his New York friend circle from their twenties into adult life. Despite the immensely sad and tragic story, I ended up really enjoying the book this time.

The critics of the book are also right, however. At times it feels a bit monotonous and repetitive. Parts of the story are so unbelievable and over-the-top that at certain points it borders on the laughable.

Still though, after my two earlier unsuccessful attempts at finishing A Little Life, I would now myself also recommend the book to others.