Eimear McBride's The Lesser Bohemians

This is an incredibly beautiful book. I'm not particularly partial to romantic stories, but this is one of the most exposing, visceral, someone-pulling-the-guts-out-on-the-table novels about love I've read. Her linguistic experiment works incredibly here. Her "stream-of-subconsciousness" really pulls the reader in close. The fragmentary jaggedness of the language mirrors the love, the abusive past, the bright lights of London, the sex and boozing, all of it, so so well.

In short, I wanna read everything by her now. Also, I watched an interview of her, and she seemed so self-assured and intelligent. Effortlessly cool af.

Soo many more thoughts and notes tbh. Maybe I'll write them out some other time.