yea 500 pages later i'm finding a little life a bit of a slog, i don't think that's a slur, it's just damn harrowing and looong. yet i wonder that i found a haunted comfort in this character, this jude, perhaps because he was so very harrowed himself, and people adored him anyway and because of his harrowing beauty, the haunting familiarity i assume others in the novel had with him. it cuts home to me because i could have been a cutter too, though had nothing like the life he had to release, and i only had to do it once to wake in terror of what i might do if.  
and so, so dissolute, why did i write the author, i wonder what i expected or hoped. nothing, just acknowledgement from a stranger familiar, a reciprocal of that dark emergence she may have had, reading her own character. nevermind, i won't wait, i've always been waiting.