As with The Count Of Monte Cristo, I picked this book with no idea of what really happened...just trusting the judgement of various friends and Waterstones colleagues that had recommended it. 'Very good', one of them had said, 'but slightly disturbing'. Well, they definitely weren't wrong on the latter account...
When you begin reading five-year-old Jack's account about his living space, the personification of everything within it (Room, Bed, Table are all spoken about as though they were people) is slightly bewildering. Then when Old Nick is introduced into the equation, and Jack starts to talk about things seen on TV as 'not real', you realise something very sinister is occuring.
Many reviews I've read did not find Jack a convincing narrator, due to his unusually advanced vocabulary. But I disagree; I was utterly taken in by Jack's account, and thought it made for an even more chilling portrayal of his and his Ma's terrifying situation. Ma is one of the bravest characters I've encountered in a long time. Jack's complete isolation from reality- both physically and mentally- was a little uncomfortable to read sometimes, especially with regards to his inappropriate behaviour. But I defy anybody to not hold their breath during the novel's turning point in the middle; I was racing as anxiously through it as Jack was from Old Nick's truck.
I know I've been very cryptic during this review; I just didn't want to give away exactly what the novel is about. Despite the sickening evil within the book, the ending is surprisingly hopeful, advocating the endurance of both mother-child bonds and the human spirit. This novel is well worth a read: just prepare to be emotionally drained.
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