Infinite Splendours | Sofie Laguna | 2020

Is it possible to love and loathe a book at the same time, while you’re reading it, avidly? This was one of those books. Sofie Laguna’s previous book The Choke is one of my all-time favourites. Yes it was brutal, and sad whereas Infinite Splendours is dark, and sad, and brutal, and unrelenting. But the writing is exquisite.

The subject matter is terrible, a child rape and its lifelong effects. And that is all I will say about that. It’s in the first part of three, the other two parts are about how he copes as he grows up and retreats into his own little world. I found some chapters in these sections to be understandable, but at times quite creepy.

The other part of the book is the protagonists love for painting and how it helps him try to make some sense of himself and his life. The many pages of descriptions of painting, master artists, paints, canvases, and how paint is applied and colours chosen are, for me, the saviour of this book.  The quotes of the artists align with the protagonists thoughts and help us to understand him, even though it’s all in the first person and he doesn’t understand himself.

I think it’s one of those books where you’re waiting for the climax. What will happen? Will he simply fade away or will there be a dramatic ending? Yes, it’s sad and uncomfortable and left me with a feeling of being taken to a dark place and left there. There is a climax and yes it’s also sad but it’s a satisfactory ending. I don’t think I could have taken much more.