Page 160 is where I stopped. The book has been on my night stand for weeks as I read in bursts. But the brilliance of the writing is overshadowed by the brutality of the narrative and my emotional energy was needed for the lovely ordinary challenge of real life.

Not one character, however skillfully and believably rendered, resembles anyone I've ever known. (Perhaps merely an indication that I live a sheltered life and am not the intended audience.) Nearly the entire ensemble is so violent that I didn't care enough to finish the book and find out what happened to them.

Stunning word-craft and innovative structure, notwithstanding: I just couldn't. ( )

Batshit marvellous. ( )

Gorgeous writing. Tons of tiny specific details that make the scenes come alive. Beautiful deep characterization. Gripping story--I finished it in a couple of hours.

The ending was ... indeterminate. I mean I have no idea how the story ended. There is a range of possibilities that the reader is left, I suppose, to choose between. I wasn't a huge fan of that approach, so half a star off for that. Each of the potential endings was good (if violent), but, you know, pick one.

The other half star was knocked off because I personally am getting a bit worn out by stories in which Traumas Are Resolved By Art.

Don't get me wrong: traumas often can be managed by art-making. That is one valid way of dealing with trauma, definitely.

But so is any other form of creativity. Or sports. Or exercise. Or hiking. Or cooking. Or baking. Or becoming the best god-damned mother/father/accountant/interior decorator/etc. in history. Not everyone resolves every trauma through a whole-bodied devotion to art practice. Nor should they have to. And while I understand why writers, being artists who presumably at times are working out their own traumas through art, would return again and again to the Art As Solution To Trauma motif, I found it a bit irritating that EVERY CHARACTER in this book has faced a major, Oprah-worthy trauma, and ALL of them have dealt with this by becoming an artist. Not a single one learned to make souffles, talked to a therapist, cried with a friend, watched a sappy movie and then went out for a long walk.

Yuknavitch writes beautifully and if you love novels about the redemptive power of art, this is a really, really good one. If you're not yet tired of novels about the redemptive power of art, you'll enjoy it (I did, but it will be my last one for a while). If however you are full up to the gills on novels about the redemptive power of art, be warned--it's stamped on every single page. ( )

disjointed writing and horrific events. very graphic and all of the characters were so badly damaged I couldn't finish.

This is a brutal, raw portrayal of the impact of war and art upon lives. From a photographer's award-winning photograph of a young girl in war-torn Eastern Europe, the story grows and spreads across Europe and the USA. The story is told from multiple perspectives, and over decades of time, yet feels like a dream. The author's use of language is so incredibly beautiful, even in the descriptions of violence and destruction. ( )