i wanted to like this so badly but it just fell a bit flat for me unfortunately.

i understand and appreciate the concept and the themes sounded so interesting, but the execution wasn’t entirely there. i usually love books like this, i just think it could’ve been done a little better. 

the protagonist was so emotionless and the narration was a little too detached for me. i know it was intentional but i’m not sure it was necessary to the extent that it was delivered. i think this is the first book i have ever read in my whole life where i genuinely cannot picture the protagonist no matter how i try. i don’t really know what that says about this book. 

overall a decent read, i don’t regret picking it up but still a little disappointed but that may be due to hearing so many good reviews that i just didn’t resonate with whilst reading :/

i will always have a place in my heart however for books about art and the martyrdom that often comes along with it. miss woolf would be proud