“Wasn’t friendship its own miracle, the finding of another person who made the entire lonely world seem somehow less lonely?”
Where to start with A Little Life? This book is one of the most stunning works I have ever read. I'm rarely moved to tears by a book. If I do cry, it's a few tears, nothing else. And I didn't think that A Little Life would make me cry--despite what everyone said, I made it so close to the end that I thought I was safe. I was not safe. It wasn't until the last two, maybe three pages that I started to cry. And not just shed a few tears, but struggling-to-breathe-heaving-breaths *cry.* 

I think that this book's strength comes from its characters. After all, there is not very much of a plot. Rather, it's an extremely intimate character study of four friends, from the time they're in college to their fifties. At least, that's how it's described. Really, it's about one of these men: Jude St. Francis. I do wish that the other characters, like Malcolm and JB had more time within the narrative. But I feel like I can hardly complain because Yanagihara's portrait of Jude was so complete and real that every page we spend with him is worth it. 

I was talking to my mom about this book shortly before I finished it, and I think the reason that I loved it so much is because of its character-driven nature. I have always loved character-driven stories--for as long as I can remember, characters have always been my favorite part of reading, more than setting or plot or anything else. I've always loved getting to meet someone new within the pages of a book. I feel like A Little Life takes that to the extreme. It feels as if I lived a little life (ha) with these characters. We witness every intimate moment and detail and it feels as if they are real people and we are on this journey with them. It's incredibly powerful and Yanagihara is immensely talented to craft such incredible characters. 

I have read a lot of reviews of this book since finishing it. Reviews singing its praises as I am and reviews that believe it mind-numbingly depressing and unworthy of its hype. I think the reviews that portray this book as nothing but 800 pages of misery and torture are entirely, entirely missing the point. Of course, there are extremely dark, horrible events that are described in this book. It is an unflinching look at some of the worst actions that humans can do to each other, and to themselves. But for every horrible thing, for every flashback, or nightmare there is joy. There are moments where I smiled, where I laughed. There are moments of beauty and levity. And I think the point of this book is to illustrate how we can experience both immense suffering and immense joy. There is no one way that an individual grieves, or heals, or deals with their mental illness. So of course there are dark days, dark years, even of this book. But, I guess that for me, those moments were equally met with characters who were full of love, and patience, and it made everything else worth it. 

Anyways. I loved this book. The last page might be some of my favorite lines of literature ever--I won't include them because they are vaguely spoiler-y, but it is just such a beautiful ending. I can't believe that it's only January and this is already a very strong contender for one of the best books of the year.