I first became interested in this book years ago. As someone who loves horror, and who hungers to know the fullness of our species, it seemed a right fit. I finally started reading it a few days ago, and I was finding myself continuing only to say that I'd managed to. Where I sought to humanize, this book dehumanizes. I understand that there is nothing glamorous about drug addiction, for instance, but this book goes to great descriptive lengths to add layers upon layers of filth, which is a theme that prevails throughout. I am a third of the way through and have not found any moments I have been able to connect with, despite generally being a very empathetic person. Perhaps I would have enjoyed this more when I was younger, priding myself on being able to spend time in places most people won't, but that tendency has taken a different shape in more recent years. I am allowing myself to let go, and to find nourishment elsewhere.