CW: suicide, self harm, childhood sexual abuse + exploitation (CSA+E), intimate partner violence (IPV), addiction
Spoilers for A Little Life and Bojack Horseman.
Warning re: likelihood of this being sort of a shallow discussion: I didn’t feel like doing a whole deep-dive into this heavy topic, instead wanting to write a brief thing about these two characters and the book and tv show they’re from. Just read this instead.
The novel A Little Life is pretty long. I found out when I was 2/3 of the way through it that it has a bit of a thesis statement when it comes to suffering and suicide: some people are too far gone for us to reach.
I may not have picked up the book had I known about the criticism it’s received on that topic, and so I guess I’m grateful that I learned in the middle of reading? There is a scene kind of early on where Jude, possibly the fictional character subjected to the most suffering of any other fictional character I’ve ever encountered, is adopted by his mentor Harold. It may be implausible in the real world, but, still. Harold and his wife Julia are portrayed in the novel as pretty much angelic. Kind, loving, supportive people who adopt the adult Jude, who deserves their angelic parenting, and who has never known anything even resembling parental love and support in his life. For that scene alone, I’m glad I read this book. I also enjoyed the depiction of friendship, although my enjoyment of the friendship did start to crumble away as the novel went on and its thesis statement came into clearer view.
I’m also glad I did learn what “the point” of Jude’s suffering would be before I got to his suicide – I was ready for it. I don’t really know what to say. I’m not sure if I think this book is cynical to the point of being grotesque or if it’s trying to get at some true vision of the human spirit in earnest, but, I do have a question about the choice of main character.
Before we get to that question, here are my Jude St Francis observations:
- Jude has moments of extreme self loathing countless times, it gets dull – this goes nowhere.
- The reader, and here you’re picturing me because I don’t know anyone else’s tastes, knows that his self loathing is based on bullshit.
- The people around him are occasionally aware of the depths of his self loathing (mostly they’re not, but every once in a while, they notice), and they know it’s based on bullshit and try to talk him out of it.
- His response is invariably to dismiss this and never, ever, ever reflect on it, except to repeatedly ask himself “why” anyone and everyone he loves and admires are wasting their time on him.
- I doubt most people are strangers to self loathing. Many of us go down those roads from time to time. Knowing what casual self loathing feels like, this reader thinks Jude’s insistence on self loathing without budging anywhere near reflection is a convenient and irritating contrivance to keep the character on the path towards the conclusion of “See? He was too far gone to help and they caused him more pain by trying.”
- To me the endless parade of shit Jude had to go through as a little kid is another contrivance added in to be like “See? No one could survive being put through all of this.” Which grosses me out, because there are survivors of this stuff. Kids who get exploited for years like Jude does exist, and they do survive, and I’m really grossed out by the implication that this book might be saying maybe they shouldn’t.
- Not sure that this depiction of CSA+E is informed by very much research, tbh (from reading and listening to real accounts of it)
- Similarly, the IPV relationship Jude briefly ends up in didn’t feel at all realistic (from reading real accounts and the book Why Does He Do that? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men by Lundy Bancroft)
- I’m not as schooled in self harm as the little schooling I’ve had on the above topics, but, the author has admitted to not researching self harm before writing all the self harm, so also that.
- Why didn’t he just do it waaaaaaaaay earlier?
On the last one – I know the answer is “because then we wouldn’t have a book.” But I’m not reading a journey of self destruction that makes sense. I’m reading a stagnant character experience happiness and sadness, sometimes profound happiness and profound sadness, and although each suicide attempt, and the eventual successful suicide, technically make sense, because he’s been established as a suicidal character and usually the attempts are around some sort of setback, it still doesn’t make sense as character progression. It doesn’t make sense that if he was so far gone, he didn’t attempt or successfully kill himself when the abuse was happening – in the monastery, in the hotel, in the group home, or after being rescued. Or in university, with no guidance or support, or therapy – just his group of friends, and no way to process his trauma. Why does it take so long? Why would he have decided to go through schooling (successfully), pursue a career (successfully), get adopted, keep up with his friends (successfully), if the whole time it’s been a foregone conclusion in his mind and in the author’s mind that he can’t ever heal, he is too far gone for that, and he just has to die instead?
The book compares Jude, with his chronic pain, disability, self harm, suicidality, and suitcases and suitcases of trauma to Harold’s biological son who dies after suffering a horrific childhood progressive and terminal illness that is entirely fictional. Despite it being a fictional disease, I think that comparison is kind of gross.
In trying to come to terms with this very large book I’ve read, I started to ask myself what I would have done with this thesis statement of “sometimes people are beyond help.” If I wanted to write a story about someone who was perhaps too far gone to be reached, too damaged to save, beyond help, I’d want it to be nuanced, and mostly, I’d have to ask myself who I’m writing this story about.
Why would it be someone with chronic pain? Someone who is disabled? Someone who has experienced CSA+E? Someone who has experienced torture? Someone who has experienced IPV? Like. What would I be gaining by trying to make that point? I guess personally if I wanted to discuss someone who might be “beyond help,” I’d lean more towards making it a Bojack Horseman type.
I do want to quickly say I’m on favour of policies like MAID (medical assistance in death) because we euthanize animals to prevent their suffering and they don’t have the capacity to make that choice for themselves. Humans with the capacity and who fit the criteria should be allowed to decide to end their lives peacefully if this is what they want. But Jude doesn’t reflect on his life or his suffering in any real way. All I see is someone who desperately needs to TALK to someone, which he does not want to do.
Here are the qualifications:
“You must:
- have a serious illness, disease or disability.
- be in an advanced state of decline that cannot be reversed.
- experience unbearable physical or mental suffering from your illness, disease, disability or state of decline that cannot be relieved under conditions that you consider acceptable.”
If Jude were real and if he were in Canada, he’d probably consider himself qualified based on the third bullet point. But – like. He’d have to convince someone of that, which means he’d have to actually talk about his feelings to someone, and that person would likely be a psychiatrist, and probably that psychiatrist could help him or could point him in the direction of help, that isn’t just death.
I will say that Jude manages to tell the entire story of his CSA+E and all the rest of it to Willem, and he does talk to a therapist or psychiatrist, but this changes nothing about his self loathing, self harm, and suicidality. He doesn’t “get better,” which in some ways is good because there’s no real cure for trauma, but there is healing. Jude doesn’t heal, not at all. Willem can’t heal him with sex, he can’t heal him with romance, he can’t heal him with friendship. Harold and Julia can’t heal him with parenting. Andy (his “doctor”) can’t heal him at all. All of this because Jude… refuses to heal?
I guess?
And what “help” is Jude so far beyond that is actually offered? Apart from love and support (which is always important IRL), there is a lot of yelling, sighing, disappointment, concern, and hiding of his razors. There is an insistence that he seeks professional help. Pleading for Jude to talk to them, to tell them what’s wrong. None of this even sparks the tiniest of lights in Jude that he might use to start to reflect, to start to try to love himself and let go of the loathing and the self harm. He just thinks, boringly, “I wonder why they love me when I’m so disgusting.” JUDE. I suppose it’s possible that some people do this with their trauma – they just hold onto it and refuse to consider the possibility that it might not all be their fault. But I don’t think what’s depicted in the novel is actually what that would look like.
Then there’s a fictional character who does reflect, and who does sometimes make strides, but ultimately may be beyond help, since he’s so stubborn and just kind of won’t help himself, won’t change. Bojack Horseman is wealthy, successful in his own way, able bodied, straight, male, has a history of bad behaviour, and a strange and earnest urge to be a good person. Or really, an urge to be seen as a good person, with a consistent refusal to actually doing the work to be a good person.
The show Bojack Horseman is a good palate cleanser for something like A Little Life. In the penultimate episode there is a recitation of a poem called “The View from Halfway Down.” You have to see the whole show to truly feel the effect of it, I think. The first time I saw it I sat with my stomach cold and thought, “That maybe saved someone’s life. Maybe that’ll save mine.” I don’t want to be super cynical myself, but I’m not sure that A Little Life and its “some people are too far gone” thing could do the same.
Things Bojack and Jude have in common:
- Cold success. Jude is a very successful lawyer working in a firm that is helping to ruin the world, and he loves it. Bojack is washed up but he’s happy and comfortable being a former tv star and enjoying the money he made doing it. Neither shows much inclination towards considering whether their success needs to be reflected on, whether they might try to do something that helps the world instead.
- Rich guys. Only one of these stories, and it’s Bojack, is interested in discussing the role of being a rich guy in the self destruction and harming of those around him.
- Childhood trauma. Jude’s is immense. Bojack’s by comparison really isn’t, but it’s enough. If A Little Life were better it would have probably not gone so far in it’s graphic depiction of CSA+E, because Bojack Horseman manages to make simple neglect one of the most wrenching things on a television screen.
- Addiction: Bojack’s to alcohol, possibly to other drugs as well, and Jude’s to self harm (and self loathing, I guess)
- Stagnation. Jude never changes. Neither does Bojack. Both stories are making a point about that – the point of Jude’s stagnation is “See, he can’t be helped and never could be helped and was doomed at some point in the middle of all of the CSA+E he experienced, weird thing to say due to real people who have endured similar, but, whatever!” And Bojack’s is “wanting to do better and actually doing better are two very, very, very different things.”
I think the difference between these two characters is agency. Technically, both Jude and Bojack have agency. Jude doesn’t want to heal, wants to hold on to his self loathing, wants to die, and he succeeds in all of this. But the novel, in achieving its thesis, pretty much sets him up as having no agency until it’s all over. You’re rooting for Willem, Harold, Julia, and all the rest to somehow save him, right up until the end, so his consistent choice to be stagnant and not accept help or try to heal aren’t as obvious while you’re actually in it. In contrast Bojack is always very clearly in control of his own actions. This makes him more compelling, and more true to life. I don’t think Bojack Horseman ever says that some people are too far gone to be saved (and here “saved” usually means redemption, but sometimes it also does mean the same thing as it does in A Little Life), but it does ask the question again and again. Can Bojack change? “Yes,” the show, I think, insists. But will he? And again and again, Bojack chooses not to.
After reading A Little Life, I felt a bit nauseated remembering the “some people are too far gone” thesis and understanding that it had been applied to someone in large part because of the experience of CSA+E, and in other large part due to chronic pain and disability. It’s just… unkind. The catharsis of Jude’s adoption and the other occasional moments of joy he experienced – not worth it, maybe, in the end.
After watching Bojack Horseman, I felt everything. Frustrated by him. Relieved that he lives. Angry that he hasn’t changed. Happy that he still has some relationships left intact. Terribly, terribly sad for him too. And grateful to be alive.
idk.












































