Oh dear. So very American in the worst possible way. I think the most distasteful thing I found about this book was the choice of weapon for the school massacre. Is this novel sponsored by the National Rifle Association perhaps? To choose this topic to write on and then to deny that the easy availability of firearms is not a major contributor to these tragedies is deceitful.

Otherwise this is an easy-read pot-boiler, a page turner with no great depth or insight. I realise I'm spitting into the wind against the many highly positive reviews here. Fine, but I do find some American novels cloyingly sentimental. DCB Pierre, in Vernon God Little, does this story with so much more style. ( )

This book is astonishing and terrifying - and, though I think it's inherently wrong to use words like "true" and "real" for a work of fiction, I find those keep surfacing when I think about it.

We Need to Talk About Kevin is an epistolary novel. You could say that it examines an age-old troubling question: how responsible are parents for their children's actions? But the examination is too personal to be called that. The book works through, from conception to incarceration, the path of one young man's life, from the viewpoint of a mother who was ambivalent about having him in the first place. From the day after his conception, she is troubled about her son, and catalogues instances of his brilliant cruelty from the day he is born in these letters, until she works up to the terrifying events of one April Thursday that have caused him to be infamous and locked-up. From that standpoint, you could say this mother presents a powerful argument for nature winning out over nurture - she always knew something was wrong with her son, always. Other people noticed, too. But her husband, an unimaginative and whiny American, was determined that everything was Apple Pie and the Fourth of July - and so she stayed. Even as the difference of opinion about their child gnawed their marriage out from the inside; even as she bore another child - desperately wanted this time, who turned out to be loving and sweet and compassionate and therefore in grave danger from her malignant brother - she stays because of her love for this man.

And yet, though she voices the question aloud only once, it's still there. Was he "always" like this because he was always unwanted? Would he have turned out like his sister if he had been loved from the start? Is this all her fault?

My own point of view might be distracted, because the book examines to me the second-most terrifying question involving child-rearing. But Shriver isn't trying to answer this question, not really, as far as I can tell, She's just trying to tell us how it might feel to be the one asking it, for real. It's a dark, difficult, terrifying book - and one of the best I've ever read. ( )

This is one of the best books I have read all year & may be in my top 20 of all time. This is a dense, meaty read full of complex ideas & painful moments leavened by its utter believability & unexpected touches of wry wit & sardonic humor.

Eva, the mother of a school shooter, is writing to her ex-husband about their son. It is apparent from the very beginning of the letters that something was wrong with Kevin, although his father refused to see it. Ms. Shriver dares to write about all the ways that pregnancy is deprivation & physical misery. She explores the equally taboo notion that bearing a child doesn't mean you automatically love said child & the fact that some children are born with various parts of themselves broken.

The relationships & people in this book are believable. The pace is inexorable & grinds the reader into pulp along with the characters. It's form absolutely fits its function & where it could easily have been clunky is instead engrossing & fluid. It is powerful, beautifully written, & utterly intelligent. This is an absolute must-read. ( )

A fascinating read - could not stop even though it made me feel pretty sick at times. June 09 Book Club. ( )

Enthralling, well written, couldn't put it down