We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver

This novel is made up of a mother’s letters to her husband. She explores (ad nauseum) her culpability because her son committed mass murder at his high school. Despite the book’s very subjective viewpoint, I couldn’t forgive its implausible, black-and-white take on such a heinous crime. Of course the mom never wanted the son, didn’t love him (enough?), was a bad disciplinarian and on and on it goes. Oh yeah, she even listened to “Pyscho Killer” while pregnant. (I roll my eyes.) My two take-aways are that Shriver is fantastic at using a thesaurus and creating a novel that’s hard to put down—even though you really want to—because of its car-crash quality.

Gwenamon says: Hated it


About gwenamon

bookworm, confidante, creative director, cyclist, global wanderer, music lover, shutterbug, shoe shopper, snowboarder, writer, yoga geek. i'm also a very proud mama of a lil mister named james.
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