I Know This Much Is True

If you've followed me for awhile, you've probably noticed how few five star ratings I give out. There are two objectives that have to be met: Did it make me feel ALL the feels? (Usually meaning did it make me scream cry and/or sob uncontrollably to the point where I think about the book the next day and cry?) And will I reread this infinitely? So yeah, it's pretty rarely that a book fits both these conditions. This one fit neither. This novel didn't make me sob and I will probably never reread it. But I'm giving it five stars. Let's dive in.

What I enjoyed:
This is my first Wally Lamb book, but it won't be my last. He's an incredibly gifted writer. To write a 900 page book that kept my attention all the way through is really a talent. To write a book about a character that is SO unforgivingly everything I despise about baby boomers that I didn't hate, frankly, is astounding. (Don't @ me, I'm not sorry.) The protagonist, Dominick, is so real to me. I rooted for him while simultaneously thinking he was the worst. He was a complex and very flawed character, a real person. All the characters were so well written.

This was a HARD read. Reading this wrecked me. I won't be able to read it again. But not in the way that books usually wreck me. It was DIFFICULT to read about the onset and progression and ultimate extremes of Thomas' schizophrenia. And coming from a home where a close family member deals with very untreated mental illness, it hurt. It was so so hard to read the anger and resentment and burden that Dominick felt about caring for Thomas because I've felt it myself. Dude, it was a tough read. But it was tough because it was so real. The writing was just so spot on. The ricocheting between love and hate, ach.

What I didn't enjoy:
Strangely, I thought I would feel more -something- when the big event happened. I'm not sure why. And I can't tell if I am content with that or not. Otherwise, I have no complaints, honestly.

Would I recommend?
Okay, trigger warnings abound. Just to name a few: Domestic abuse, emotional abuse, death, infant death, suicide, violence, rape, paranoia, mental illness. There's so many, I'm sure I've forgotten some. Please do your due diligence and research it if you have triggers. If you like heavy subject matter and realistic fiction, yes. Just yes. If you prefer your fiction to be very fictionalized, no. Definitely no. Happy reading. :)

The honest truth is that I re-read this for the same reason I re-read The Corrections. I'm moving again soon, and these are big, fat books that I figured I'd be better able to relinquish after revisiting.

I was glad to re-read this. I Know This Much Is True is kind of schlocky, in the sense that Lamb clearly wants to deal with All. The. Big. Issues. and enable his readers in experiencing All. The. Big. Feelings. It's also kind of unschlocky, in that I think he succeeds admirably well, despite his intention to do so being clearly evident.

The spoiler alert below isn't related to the end of the novel, but I put it in because it does relate to potentially triggering content.

For example, on a fellowship interview this spring, an interviewer asked me about a novel that had influenced my clinical work. The first thing that popped into my head, nearly a decade after first reading this, was how Lamb created a narrator who rapes another main (and beloved) character, and the rape felt believable, strongly increased both my empathy for and anger (but not disgust) at the narrator, and Lamb's treatment of all of that didn't feel like a gratuitous portrayal of violence against women as a mean to an emotional end. It just felt like the way life really (often tragically) happens. I think about that a lot when working with people who have perpetrated violence instead of (or in addition to) being on the receiving end of it. We need to really understand both the aftermath of sexual violence, and what leads people to commit it in the first place. .

So, I think this is a good novel to read if you feeling like reading something that will likely make you cry, but not likely to make you feel as if you've been manipulated into crying.