The Crimson Petal and The White

So much for rest without the Monkey. I miss her dreadfully and keep forgetting she isn’t here. Still, last night I wasn’t feeling tip-top and was awake for all but a few hours of it on account of this dodginess so perhaps it is for the best she isn’t here. The only upside to wakefulness is that I have finally finished The Crimson Petal and The White by Michel Faber.

I didn’t see the celebrated adaptation of this novel a few years ago (I was in the throes of early parenthood I think and saw only back to back episodes of Mad Men on iTunes when baby Monkeyface finally slept.) and I cannot imagine how I missed this novel in the decade since it was written. It gripped me from the first page. Knowing, seedy, amusing, heart-breaking, dazzling, bleak and optimistic. I envy anyone who hasn’t yet read it and desperate to know what became of its characters. This has catapulted into the list of my favourite books and I am profoundly jealous of Michel Faber’s rich, sharp writing.


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