This is one of the most disturbing and grotesque books I've ever read, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I would have gotten more out of it if only I had at some point done a lot of psychotropic drugs. I can't say I enjoyed this book, but I was kind of amazed by it. I think the story and the characters are on a level of screwed up I am nowhere close to - and by the end of the novel I was really very grateful for that. This is a reading experience of shock and awe, maybe, then. I honestly can't say how much of Cruddy was a little over the top, and how much was just something I've never experienced and so seemed to me a little unrealistic. I didn't relate to the characters at all, nor did I like them, and I had trouble even feeling sympathy for them most of the time. Sometimes a really interesting or original thought from one of them would shine through, but it never really redeemed the book for me.
All that being said, I think this is an excellent book, just maybe not for me. It's amazingly gutsy and I've never read anything more emotionally raw and brutal. Cruddy is certainly more worthwhile and original than many of the more critically acclaimed, self-important, "dark" contemporary works.
I loved that the main character wasn't ugly-but-not-really-ugly, or sexy-ugly, or ugly-until-the-makeover or whatever; no, she was described several times as being really, really truly messed up looking. A couple of times in the novel other characters recoil from her countenance in revulsion or horror. There just aren't enough really unattractive protagonists in literature. I kind of think Lynda Barry took all the painfully awkward and horrible feelings of adolescence, intensified them to a radioactive level, and then put them in a literal context, all onto one character. Imagine if things really were as bad as they felt when you were 13? If your insides really were your outsides, every secret fear a boil on your face? If it sounds like it might be intense and a little difficult to read, it is. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that no matter what kind of problems you might have... this book will give you a little perspective on how it could be worse.
I'm glad that I read this book, but I can't see myself reading it again for quite a while, and I can't possibly imagine who I would recommend it to. I think if I knew someone that I thought should be reading this book, what I would recommend to them instead would be about ten different kinds of intensive therapy.