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morganjanedavis 's review for:
The Doloriad
by Missouri Williams
3.5
An environmental catastrophe has wiped out most human life on earth, except for one family who refuses to succumb to the same fate. Their self-proclaimed prophet and leader, Matriarch has been steadfast in her idea to repopulate and reconstruct Earth back to its former glory for years. So much so that said repopulation has relied solely on incestuous relations with her brother, which now has no choice but to trickle down to their own children. When The Matriarch has a vision of new life, more people, she sends her daughter Dolores into the forest as a marriage offering. When Dolores comes back, no others, no husband, her siblings start to question their mother. There’s cracks in her Godliness. Is she even a prophet? Is she chosen to do this? Or is this family doomed?—stuck on a planet with only themselves and steady dwindling resources.
Due to the pure, unbridled feeling of dread this book evoked in me, it took me about 2 months to finish, and it’s only 214 pages. This is a family of brutes, consistently abusing one another, completely devoid of identity, purpose, unity. It’s unnerving to observe such a lack of sentimentality.
These people very much don’t know who they are and they don’t care. It’s like watching toddlers have temper tantrums when they can’t express their emotions, except these adults have no concept of what emotions are, even though they’re ruled by them. Isolation is causing skewed viewpoints, loneliness eating them alive. It’s intriguing. Because of this, I felt the characters acted horrifically on a dime, and all the time. You never knew when one would abuse the other and eventually, their behavior became less and less shocking.
Williams’ writing style consists of dense, intellectual prose that could definitely be considered polarizing; it demands scrutiny to be properly appreciated. Cryptic symbolism is sprinkled throughout, admittedly none of which I cared about towards the end. While I wouldn’t stop anyone from reading this book, it brings on the most true feeling of dread I’ve ever experienced from a novel. This sentiment paired with the carefully crafted prose confirms Williams’ talent.
The doloriad poses the question in a post-apocalyptic environment: just because survival is possible, is it worth it?
An environmental catastrophe has wiped out most human life on earth, except for one family who refuses to succumb to the same fate. Their self-proclaimed prophet and leader, Matriarch has been steadfast in her idea to repopulate and reconstruct Earth back to its former glory for years. So much so that said repopulation has relied solely on incestuous relations with her brother, which now has no choice but to trickle down to their own children. When The Matriarch has a vision of new life, more people, she sends her daughter Dolores into the forest as a marriage offering. When Dolores comes back, no others, no husband, her siblings start to question their mother. There’s cracks in her Godliness. Is she even a prophet? Is she chosen to do this? Or is this family doomed?—stuck on a planet with only themselves and steady dwindling resources.
Due to the pure, unbridled feeling of dread this book evoked in me, it took me about 2 months to finish, and it’s only 214 pages. This is a family of brutes, consistently abusing one another, completely devoid of identity, purpose, unity. It’s unnerving to observe such a lack of sentimentality.
These people very much don’t know who they are and they don’t care. It’s like watching toddlers have temper tantrums when they can’t express their emotions, except these adults have no concept of what emotions are, even though they’re ruled by them. Isolation is causing skewed viewpoints, loneliness eating them alive. It’s intriguing. Because of this, I felt the characters acted horrifically on a dime, and all the time. You never knew when one would abuse the other and eventually, their behavior became less and less shocking.
Williams’ writing style consists of dense, intellectual prose that could definitely be considered polarizing; it demands scrutiny to be properly appreciated. Cryptic symbolism is sprinkled throughout, admittedly none of which I cared about towards the end. While I wouldn’t stop anyone from reading this book, it brings on the most true feeling of dread I’ve ever experienced from a novel. This sentiment paired with the carefully crafted prose confirms Williams’ talent.
The doloriad poses the question in a post-apocalyptic environment: just because survival is possible, is it worth it?