It’s very quiet, straightforward writing though. There is no outlandish or complicated sentence structure or flowery prose. The details are subtle, but their impact is not. The messages in the story, their implications for relationships between black people today, well. It’s serious. You can practically feel the reasons behind modern day angst, only diffused as thin as a lace veil by this recitation of past abuse.
Wench is very subtle in its execution, yet the emotions stirred by the daily degradations depicted are as tangible as the book is in my hands. It’s very clever. I can’t wait to finish.
I haven’t read such a quietly horrible, wonderful tale in quiet awhile… but I love stories like that.