Sasha

Overall, It was a decent read. After reading it, I'd say the horror elements aren't what you'd expect and are more centered around misfortune and characterizations. I'd say it's more a thrilling mystery, sprinkled with supernatural horror at times. But it lands the mystery/thriller aspects very well from what I think. Again, my favorite part of the story wasn't so much the plot itself―even if it did have thrilling moments―but rather the character-centered drama weaved into the plot. I'd say this story could be appropriately termed “gothic romance” alongside its gothic horror label, and I was more in tune with the former. In any case, the plot kept a steady pace, but the actual reading experience was otherwise often a drudgery because of its archaic language and verbosity, which isn't a fault of the story, but just not my cup of tea evidently. To each their own, though. So, to summarize: a cool thriller that's a slog to get through but still pulls itself through by its well-displayed themes and layered characters.

For my first supernatural horror novel (and impressively presented gothic romance), the read was pretty pleasant all the way through. It wasn't the most gripping story I've read, but I still enjoyed the tension, graphic moments, and overall atmosphere; moreover, I enjoyed the prose themselves: balancing flowery language with a grim glaze. My favorite aspect of the story was probably the characters, though, but even this element wasn't particularly remarkable compared to the stuff I've read thus far this year. Nonetheless, the atmosphere and general tone of the story was successfully creepy―maybe even sinister―for my money; I didn't consider it “scary”, per se, but I still think the horror elements were pulled off effectively for what it is. And whether it affected me or not, this story was objectively weird (even for me) and appropriately engaging enough to lure its reader into the The Hellbound Heart series, however I don't feel compelled enough to check out the remaining two novels. This goes the same for Heart's film adaption series, Hellraiser from which I've only seen the first installment but, like its source material, was still fairly enjoyable. But I appreciate Heart pushing its graphic nature considerably further than the movie adapation already went, which I'm always excited about regarding the adaptations v. source material discussion.

Honestly, I don't know how to start this review: should I commend its absolutely harrowing nature, page after page, somehow even more unrelenting than Living Dead Girl or Child of God , both of which also present their own extremelly unsettling character studies, respectively; should I criticize its othewise surprisingly lackluster narrative (despite its impeccable portrayal of existentilism in the most grimmest and unabashed light it can)?

No matter where I start and where my focus would lie, I think I'd always arrive at the same conclusion: this book is capital ‘D' depressing―and yet the devoidness I was subjected to still wasn't too overwhelming for me nor any more influential on my own personal existential crises as they stand. Speaking of which, moreso than the story itself and the themes tackled therein, I found the most impactful detail (or rather details) is the frightening parallel I see between myself and Yozo, the main character, regarding the nihilistic outlook on life that he has, although the specifics is where I diverge from Yozo's views. Nonetheless, the deathly bleak landscape of this novel was still interesting thanks to both the personal connection I developed with the book as well as the already morbidly interesting themes depicts through Yozo, who, if not morbid enough, is a stand-in for Osamu Dazai himself. On top of all of this, I think this book is even more unrelentingly depressing in its themes than the previous disturbing books I've read this year (see my reviews). Still, absolutely amazing example of existential-horror literature. Highly recommned, but I'm preaching to the choir.

> Despite certain reviews suggesting this book would be too much to handle or so detestable that saying you enjoyed it/liked it would inadvertently guarantee ostracization from most of society, I found this read to be rather disappointing for my taste (not to say I wanted to be destroyed as I was anticipating). Of course, your experience may vary. Save for a few nauseating passages, the narrative was far from unbearable and rather very engaging and tasteful thanks to its often purple (though not smothering) prose; additionally, the especially disturbing passages, I thought, were balanced out nicely by otherwise tamed and intellectual commentary, even if said commentary was bleak as black. Bold, vivid, and cautionary are just a few superlatives I'd award this project, and my morbid curiosity and interest in the macabre and nihilistic world of fiction Brite embraces unabashedly piqued and steadied throughout this exquisite experience, indeed. While not viscerally too much to stomach, Brite did successfully heighten a certain anxiety of mine to a paranoiac level of fear that I'd never felt (nor thought I'd ever feel) about everyday people around you. All I'm gonna say is: you never really know someone completely.

Being this fable is only ~100 pages, It's likely I'll read it more than once. Being a story-wide allegory what the various elements in the story (including the little prince himself) represent is not immediately obvious to me; perhaps this is one of those stories the reader must ponder and revisit multiple times before they understand the themes.

With the aforementioned considered, technically the novella didn't frustrate me in any meaningful way. It appears repetition as a literary device is present throughout the story as a character developing tool and functions somewhat poetically, presenting the narrative as similar to an Aesop fable of sorts through each chapter. Plot-wise, the linear story-line doesn't confuse the reader too much, but sometimes the reader may get lost during conversations between two characters because of the sometimes glaringly lacking dialogue tags showing who's speaking. Contributing to its world-building, the sufficient details of each location is provided, presented as a long journey the main character takes. In fact, through its digestible though surprisingly layered prose, they're many lessons it efforts to present to its targeted readers (which are likely adolescents). If read during this time in one's life, the rich commentary and allegory may, however, still be overlooked and interpreted under the guise of a lackluster, layer-less children's story.

Nonetheless, perhaps The Little Prince (or rather the lessons and commentary it presents) is better understood at different junctions or phases in one life. After all, the story itself nods at this, almost implying that an adult (or “grown-up”) may never understand the allegorical elements of the story—or at least not in the same way—as a child or tween might.