For you. You'll soon. You'll give her name. In the stitches of her skin she'll wear your say. Mammy me? Yes you. Bounce the bed, I'd say. I'd say that's what you did. Then lay you down. They cut you round. Wait and hour and day. I've read a book in a new language. A language that I wasn't aware I understood (but I do, sort of). A language that I didn't even know existed. A language that resembles English, but follows almost none of its conventions and rules. A beautiful, raw, intimate and intriguing language. The language in which Eimear McBride's debut novel A Girl is a Half-formed Thing is written. When a novel begins with the paragraph quoted above, you know that you have your work cut out for you as a reader. Some will be put off by it. Some might simply give up and not even try to understand what's being said. Some (like me) will feel frustrated, but curious at the same time. And keep on reading. The novel's narrator is a gi...