Saturday, 3 May 2014

Mud Vein by Tarryn Fisher

You don't pick up a +Tarryn Fisher book and expect rainbows, unicorns, and rose petals scattered on a bed in the shape of a heart. If you do, you're in for an extremely rude awakening. Because instead of sugar and spice, and everything nice, you're going to get flawed characters who manage to make the most cynical of us running to believe in fairy tales to escape the brutal honesty in which Ms. Fisher's books are written.

Mud Vein.

I hated it because I felt like I was in the bottom of the deepest well, with no way out. Every word that I read was a bucket of water being dumped into this dark pit. By the time I was at about 80%, I felt like I was drowning. Tarryn Fisher was killing me.

I hated the way the writing made me think of unimaginable things just to escape the pain that was coming through the most expertly chosen words. I despised that I couldn't see the joy in anything in the real world.That this story had managed to overtake every aspect of my life. I hated that when I heard on the news that areas north of me were going to get snow, fear consumed me and I almost ceased to function.

I hated the way my heart broke. I hated the way that those broken pieces where further annihilated when Ms. Fisher's words slaughtered the remnants with what felt like dull box-cutters. The pain was excruciating. What little was left of my organ was scarped into a Vitamix and set on high on 15 minutes. Even the little bit of hope that was given to the reader did nothing to make me whole.

And yet, I'll do it all again.

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