Book Thirty Two.
The pattern of the book is interesting. Each chapter consists of a slice of the main narrative, a poem written about one of the characters and a story (often autobiographical) written by the character the poem was about. Make sense? Good.
The fact that the first chapter had me cringing and feeling sick and wanting/not-wanting/wanting to keep reading was an immediate selling point for me (i love to feel uncomfortable and grossed out, because it’s so hard to do that to me).
The main story got pretty damn gross, too. This group of nicknamed strangers locked together in an old abandoned theatre, living a self-induced tortured existence in the hopes of becoming famous once they’re (eventually, in a while, not
just yet) rescued.
(Longer review at:
marvelatwords.wordpress.com)