Reading Shy is like dipping your toe into a swimming pool and being swiftly pulled into a swirly whirlpool of emotion. Max Porter has this uncanny knack of writing prose that almost moonlights as poetry. His ability to transcend genre serves him well with the subject matter of this book- Which is that you're the reader inside the head of Shy, the titular character who’s coming to terms with his life in Last Chance, a last resort for “troubled boys” like him. 

Shy has a laundry list of offences built up through his adolescence and the book takes us through a night of inner reckoning for our main character. Right off the gate, We are unceremoniously dropped into his head and the inner monologues take over, sometimes incoherent, most times tragic as it weaves the story of Shy. 

This is a short volume but it took a bit out of me to read because of my not wanting to be in the narrative and not wanting to feel Shy's pain or of those around him. 

I did want more of a cohesive or finite ending for the book but leaving it open ended was clearly a conscious choice. Looking forward to your next one, Max porter.