I got this as a preview copy from the nice people at
Netgalley. I will always be honest about a book no matter if I paid for it or not 💜
I genuinely thought my Kindle had done something weird to the format when I started reading The Art of Taxidermy. I had no idea what was going on until it dawned on me – this book was written in verse.
And I hated that.
This is a story about grief. A story about a little Australian girl, Lottie, who has experienced far too much death for someone so young and it’s slooowly transformed into a fascination with all things dead. Her father indulges her and encourages it with his Science Is The BEST hat on, whilst her aunt decides that it’s absolutely not the way a young lady should be behaving and punishes her at every god damn opportunity.
Let’s get one thing straight: her obsession isn’t about violence. It’s about understanding death and appreciating it. It does, however, come with a few social hangups.
Lottie’s obsession turns into taxidermy. Her taxidermy creeps people out. The creeping out of people turns her into a loner. The loner status means these dead things become her friends.
And that’s all I’ve got.
Although this book’s technically beautifully written, it’s just not my bag. I tried (oh, how I tried) to love it, but I was just painstakingly bored and wishing it was written a different way.
This is a Marmite book; loved by many, but not for me.