This used to be another member of my MUST-STOP-AVOIDING pile.The reason behind my avoidance isn't that interesting so I shall refrain.When I close my eyes and think of this book, do you know what I see?An endless, desolate sea. Gray waves lapping and lashing out at each other, dark debris of ships and humanity long gone riding it out. A little light in the endless horizon peeking from the roiling mass of the tempetous clouds. And in this infernum, a little fish bobbing up and down and sideways.A rotten spoke of a broken wheel comes to impale her but she escapes. Waves and thunder bring about remnants of something-or-the-other to crush her and yet again she escapes. She escapes into the deeper, darker parts and there's nothing left except the idea of her. And that keeps you going on, because you know she is there, you can't see her but you just know. Then, she comes back and she is thrown about and tormented but she goes on and on and in the end, she reaches that shy sliver of light. And she has her mooment of peace.However, she goes back out for the gray is hers and she yearns for it because in this treacherous world, it is hers and what is yours is always beautiful, even the deeper, darker parts. Especially those.That's what I of think this book.It left me heartbroken.And heartburned.Especially that least chapter.A terrifying, gray beauty of a sea.