This week I read one of the most troubling books I have ever read. Its scenes troubled me as much if not more than scenes from the writings of Shirley Jackson and Edgar Allan Poe.
I do want to write about McEwan’s The Cement Garden but I need some time to settle (bad pun, given the plot of this narrative).
I am used to the depravity and violence in Cormac McCarthy’s books, but the level of grossness in The Cement Garden is, I truly hope, more imagined than real.
If there are families like this about, be vigilant. Be more than vigilant. Be suspicious.
*I left my thoughts on goodreads here: