The Three of Us

Ugh... what a beautifully written awful book. <i>Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf</i> meets <i>The Great Gatsby</i> with a good dose of <i>Othello</i>, but entirely unique. Three characters, with not the slightest tinge of likability for any of them. Each one is shallow, soulless, growing more horrid the more we get to know them. Each pair relationship is sick and twisted; the group dynamic is, well, read it yourself.

Did I urge you to “read it” after that blast? I did. I recommend it despite everything because I found it fascinating. And, again, beautifully written. Are there really people like that? There must be. What would it be like to be one? Are they even aware that life does not need to be that way? One of the characters is almost self-aware, completely spot-on about patriarchy and capitalism and cultural expectations, but is still completely unhinged and neurotic and irresponsible and worthless but even so they are. All. So. Fascinating. Agbaje-Williams is a remarkable writer; the way she voices each character is impressive. I considered DNFing several times—usually I prefer books where I can like or admire or respect at least one person—but I’m glad I finished. The person I respect is Agbaje-Williams, who must be very wise indeed to be able to invent and share these appalling people.