I’ve recently been reading Room by Emma Donoghue, which has harrowing subject matter and the cutest little narrator ever. Specifically, it is told from the viewpoint of a 5 year old boy who has lived in one room all his life (I won’t say why, you can read the book for that). He’s with his mother and he has access to television and books, but he has never left the room.
Every object in the room is capitalized and, according to the boy, is particular. In other words, he doesn’t use a dresser or walk on the rug; he puts his clothes in Dresser and he walks on Rug. The constant contact gives him a hyper-real sense of these objects, treating them as if they are the only ones in the world. He knows a bit about the outside world (he does have a television after all), but none of it approaches the immediacy of Room (and the near-rhyme with “womb” (especially in a child’s voice) must be intentional). [Read more...]