MizzSandie's Reviews > Den forstødte engel

This book is a work of art. Of literary genius.
Disturbing, sharp, unnerving, haunting, images and words that cut deep, touch a nerve, makes an impact.
And you can’t braze yourself against it; you can turn away or read on, either way it will haunt you, from its first pages.
Sentences, words strung together, in a way that passes the logical mind and hits you at your core, in your gut. Makes your stomach turn.
I don’t have the words to explain this book, how do you explain art? I can only try to explain the experience of reading it, of what it did to me, and even that is hard.
I’m left feeling disturbed and moved by the book itself and yet appreciative of the art, of the artist behind the words that so captivated and gut-punched me. Such beautiful writing, such a skill.
I think many would read this book and simply find it weird. And it is. It’s a weird book and a very weird experience. And without the appreciation of the art literature is and can be, the beauty in the words, you will probably only find in it weirdness and horror. And most likely turn away rather than turn another page. But if you are afflicted with a passion for words, for the art of literature, you probably will not be able to put it down, but keep reading until the last page, until your head is spinning and your stomach is churning and the piercing words have crept under your skin, leaving you to process it, long after the last page has been turned over.

This is the first book I’ve read (actually it turns out, it’s not. But the other book I read, about the doctor and the danish royal family, wasn’t a literary work like this one, with the art of words affecting me deeply) by this author and I don’t know if I have the guts to read another.
For now it’s going to take me a while to process this book, to move it through my system, release it.