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"She didn't want the truth. All she wanted was confirmation of the rumour."

This novel consumed me for three days. "Reading-While-Walking", a feature that isolates the main character of Milkman as she faces the mainstream intolerance of her "totalitarian community", was copied by me in a ridiculously literal way, as was the deliberate ignoring of all reality going on outside the pink covers of my book. This novel would not have been the choice of Middle Sister, who preferred to demonstrate her contempt for contemporary political issues by reading only 19th century authors. Actually, it would not have been my choice either, stupidly convinced as I was that the Man Booker is a mediocrity stamp, a badge of dishonour signalling conformity and adjustment rather than "Reading-While-Walking"-absorption into a world so strange, and yet so familiar as to make all else fade.

Why does this novel shine so pink in my head?

It is easy to say why one dislikes certain writing styles, characters or plots. But to turn it all around and explain comprehensively what makes one adore a novel beyond rhyme and reason, that is personal and mysterious.

Middle Sister is haunted by a rigid dystopian Anglo-Saxon society quickly deteriorating into partisan violence and regressive gender roles. She fails to commit fully to the social codes expected of her, and as a result, she is rejected by a community spreading overpowering rumours about her and her alleged association with Milkman, a local gangster who uses his masculine, violent power to force her into a corner where truth doesn't matter:

"I came to understand how much I'd been thwarted into a carefully constructed nothingness by that man. Also by the community, by the very mental atmosphere, that minutiae of invasion."

By keeping the environment vague, and the characters anonymous, nameless, just indicated by their relationship roles (middle sister, maybe boyfriend, ma), the story becomes universal, and the circumstances transferable to any struggling society.

Violence engenders violence.

Suppression of sexuality engenders religious bigotry and conflict.

Rigid and unequal gender roles suppress individual choices and needs.

Partisanship deletes community building efforts.

Totalitarian rules and regulations destroy intelligent discussions.

But somewhere underneath the surface, human beings continue to hope for passion and meaning. An ex-pious, angry mother can reinvent herself at the age of 50 if she finds something, or someone, to make existence desirable again. Being aware of life and its intricacies can be a quality in itself, even if all seems lost at times.

Middle Sister almost nearly laughed when I left her. I definitely did. What a refreshing, hopeful note to start my reading year on: a pink book full of reflection, wisdom and just plain, simple, good storytelling.

Recommended to those who walk and read!