Nightbitch

It’s movie/book club time again, and after a busy month it really feels like it came around quickly - I’ve barely had time to watch anything or read anything since last time.

This is one of those books where upon telling someone what you are reading about - an artist who begins to turn into a dog after a long couple of years being an at-home mother - they sort of look at you funny. And it is indeed quite weird, but also it’s a live wire of a book, and it reaches out from the page and grabs you.

There’s a sort of train-of-thought quality to the prose, like Yoder had all these thoughts and ideas bottled up inside and couldn’t get them down onto the page fast enough. It doesn’t all work and at times it’s a frustrating and rudderless book to read, but more often than not I found myself totally into it.

I might accuse of being needlessly experimental, and I wonder if I actually liked any of the characters. However, it’s a fine exploration of the rift between what the modern feminist image of ‘perfection’ might look like and the reality of having to live your life.