I had put off reading this book for years, not sure if I could handle the sad and horrific details of the story. After finally reading it recently, I learned that it is just that- horrific details, and little else. There is no formation or shape of an actual story. From the beginning, the reader is literally bombarded with surreal descriptions of one unspeakable act of abuse after another, and left reeling by it. It's as if the author intends to gain empathy from the reader through the "shock and awe" effect, not in a moralistic way.
It's not that you don't feel for the kid; but so much more could be gleaned from this tragic story if the narrative had rhyme or reason. Instead, it is page after page, (after page) of in-your face-atrocities, with no insight of the mother's psyche or background at all. Yes, she's a drinker, but she's Carol Brady with her other kids. And why is that? We never find out or even get a clue.
More plot holes and unanswered questions abound. Why did it take 8 years before teachers did anything for this boy? Why weren't the abuser's other children considered endangered and taken away? Why was the mother never brought to justice or at least investigated?
A story loses credibility and power when so many questions are raised for the reader, and so few are visited or answered.