I like reading books about war dogs, shipwrecks, and lady aviators.
Oh boy. This is a memoir of a girl who was sexually abused by the same man for her entire childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood. It's hard to read. And it's complicated to think about why anyone would want to read a book like this. That's probably why it took me nearly three full weeks to slog through.
What's the benefit of reading horrifying, painfully detailed descriptions of molestation? And what does it mean when I find myself wishing the memoirist was a bit of a better writer? All in all, I did not enjoy reading this. It made me sad and uncomfortable. But it also gave me a lot to think about-- big questions to wrestle with. And I think that's ultimately a good thing.