Sebold's memoir begins where the story does, the night of her rape. Her words, like the rapist's actions, are powerful, graphic, and violent. Yet, the rape is only the beginning of the story – the introduction. The rest of the book is spent dealing with the aftermath of rape and trying to find a way to recover.
So, what to make of this book? Well, it ain't no Bones. The writing style is drastically different. Where as Bones drew you in and filled you with emotion and a sense of optimism Lucky was detached, devoid of emotion, and, surprisingly, dull. Okay, so I'm not well read in the rape-memoir genre. And, yes, I realize it’s a grim subject. But, if you really want to read a rape survivor’s memoir, I suspect that there are much better ones out there.