This book felt like a real slog. I started reading this in January for a book club in February. Despite continually trying to chip away at the audiobook, I didn't finish it until August.

There's nothing wrong with it per say. It's long but mostly it was that it's one of those contemporary Irish books that I seem to have read a lot over the last few years, where it's a lot of repressed trauma and angst, then they chuck in some

homophobia

, someone

being raped

and/or

underage sex/drugs/alcohol

and call it a masterpiece. This had all of the above and it didn't add anything. But equally, without it would there even be a book? It's that kind of subgenre I suppose. That about sums up my experience with it I suppose. There were parts where I was curious to find out what happened next but I really, really didn't enjoy and the ending was abrupt but both the lead up and the ending were obvious. I didn't like any of the characters but they did feel well fleshed out.

I don't know. Maybe I wasn't in the right mood to be reading this. Though I'm not sure I'd ever be. You'd think over eight months there'd be a point you'd finally get into it but I didn't find that with this book.