Incubation

Well, sadly this is another demented book. :(

The imagery is vivid. Laloo is a character with many shards too her life, like a broken mirror crushed in a bleeding hand. There are images of maternity, but the child is a monster. There are images of adventure and travel and expedition, but the trip is filled with rape and murder. There is a bond with a father who understands her passion for something else, yet her dependence on him is only for what he can give her or what she can steal from him. From cars to money to a murdered girl with her heart wrapped in a tee shirt on the side of the road, no wait, I mean a dead girl in the back of a truck driven by a random sicko- the images are nothing but twisted.

Twisted isn't art, demented isn't beauty, blood and rape aren't love.

To that I say with another's words: "brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."

This book doesn't disturb me, I've read worse and I know people who have had worse done to them. It doesn't shock me, it doesn't free me, it doesn't give me anything but insight into a longing for something that she does not have- and her final desire to die rather than choose life.

After her accident from throwing herself out of a car to avoid being raped, and after giving birth to a twisted monster of a machine- Laloo needs help or she will die, and she chooses to wear her red dress and keep walking. She won't make it, her illness of the mind has corrupted her body and her love for freedom has been misplaced into an unhealthy obsession which brings nothing but slavery to her true heart. She tries to lead others, to guide them, but she is blind and falling off a cliff into the sharp rocks below even as she speaks.