“Room” by Emma Donoghue: A Book Review

As I’ve mentioned before, I work in a library. Obviously, in my line of work, I see many, many new books. I am not always impressed with NY Times bestsellers.

  In my opinion, the “Twilight” and “Dragon Tattoo” craze is nothing more than the literary version of Silly Banz. A useless, cheap trend.

When I first read in Reader’s Digest about the book “Room“, I thought it was just going to be another author trying to hop on the fad wagon.

It arrived in the last book shipment and something about it caught my attention. I picked it up and started reading the back.

Before I knew it, I was starting the first chapter and I had to tear myself away to continue shelving books. I told myself that the last thing I needed was ANOTHER book to read, but somehow I couldn’t bear to leave it behind at the end of the day.

I devoured it in about two sittings.

Emma Donoghue took me by the hand and introduced me to a five year old boy named Jack. Then, she quietly backed away, leaving Jack tell his story. He lives in a tiny place called Room with his mother, Ma. They have everything they need. Food, clothes, shelter, love…

But it all depends on your perspective. To Ma, this perfect world is a prison. Literally. The provider of their daily necessities is their captor, Old Nick. How did they get here? Where did they come from? Well, you will just have to ask Ma…

Jack and Ma are both amazingly human, flawed and lovable. I marveled at Jack’s naïve wisdom about life, even as I winced at his innocent verbal stabs towards his mother’s self-sacrificing protection. I applauded their bravery. I cried with them… and I their world became mine for a little while.

“Room” is a surprisingly gentle look into the depths of evil and darkness. In some ways, it reminded me of the movie “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas”.

We could learn so much more about everything, merely by looking at history through a child’s eyes.

This book is a marathon for the strength of the human spirit. It shocks you with brutal honesty.  It reflectively asks if we are really so different- whether we are an innocent child or the perpetrator horrible  of a crime.