Mailhot’s dark, riveting memoir reveals deep personal stories include domestic violence, sexual abuse, motherhood, and mental illness. Her prose is poetic and poignant. Here’s an example:
My mind is overwhelmed with breakfast alone. I don’t eat for days so you can run your hands over my ribcage. You told me that you always want to eat ribs afterward. I don’t eat for days because I can’t afford it. The meal I order after being fucked, by you, or anyone, is sont earned. Men objectify me, to such a degree that they forget I eat. You feed your dog more kindly than you feed me. That’s men.
That is some fucked up shit, but I appreciate the honesty. It’s a concise, eye-opening read. Definitely a recommendation.