I've taken a bit of a break from blogging recently, though not a break from reading, obviously. I don't really have a specific reason why I needed a blog-vacation, but I know I'm growing increasingly apathetic about it the longer I do it. It's been well-over a year now, and every time I write something, I wonder why I keep going.

Hence, A Little Life, a book I can only manage to read with the support and input of a community of readers. Never have I read more reviews of any book that interested me, and I find it so completely necessary for two reasons: 1. to prepare myself for the stomach-churning descriptions of abuse and trauma peppered throughout the novel and 2. to remind myself that the pain is worth the pleasure of this really intimate, beautiful novel.