Monday Review: Orpheus Girl by Brynne Rebele-Henry

Thank you to NetGalley, Brynne Rebele-Henry, and the publishers for the free E-ARC I received of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review.

I have to say, I was super stoked to read this book. Let's be real: the subject matter is really hot right now. right? With both The Miseducation of Cameron Post and Boy, Erased being adapted for film, as well as a Vice President of The US who is in favor of them, Conversion therapy centers are a big part of the conversation going on. And, let's be real, it's a conversation that should've been happening at much louder decibels much sooner: these places are basically torture chambers for LGBT kids.

Brynne Rebele-Henry does a really nice job of showing that in her book. With the story of two lesbian teens, Raya and Sarah,  in love, she paints a picture of just how dangerous life can still be for LGBT youth in America, especially in the rural South. With her depiction of Conversion Camps, she doesn't turn away from the pain that these kids undergo, but she also doesn't relish in exploiting that pain. I feel like Rebele-Henry does a really nice job of walking right up to the line between authentic and honest and a bit gratuitous and landing on the right side.

That said, there are a lot of things about this book that read like a first novel (which it is). It's short and feels exceptionally rushed all throughout the middle. The build up in the conversion camp is non-existent: it goes from 1-100 in a day. I'm not saying that's inaccurate: I honestly don't know what the schedule of tortures looks like at one of those places. either way, though, for a story, the pacing doesn't work.

Another issue I had with the book was that it was hyper repetitive in some places. To the point that I think some passages almost entirely repeat. I wasn't sure if that was intentional--maybe to show the slowing of thoughts due to some of the torment Raya goes through--but if it was, it could be made to read as more intentional.

Finally, I had very little sense of setting here.  I know that Raya and Sarah are from a small town and I'm guessing it's a Southern one, but when are we? The fashion of the "popular girls" (frosty blue eyeliner, especially), made me think we are in the early aughts, but then a girl at the camp said that in most places, being gay was considered normal, so I thought maybe closer to present? Given that gay marriage was only legalized in the US four years ago, it makes a pretty big difference in terms of the context of the book.

All that said, the flaws are totally forgivable issues that might make an avid reader pause, but that don't take anything away from the importance of the work. So often, I hear kids talk about how it's no big deal to be gay anymore, that there's no risk to LGBT youth, but these torture chambers are only illegal in 15 out of 50 states. That means (ignoring the increased risk of homelessness, assault, etc) if nothing else, in 35 states, they face this risk. This is a must read for people who need to know what being gay can mean, even today.

4/5 stars.

Love Note to the Dark Teenage Comedies of a Better Generation: A Review of Laurie Petrou's Love, Heather

"I want to burn everything to the ground and emerge brand new: a strong, happy, funny, confident Phoenix--Love Heather, Laurie Petrou

The sentiment of wanting to burn everything down isn't new, particularly when we are talking about high school students. I'm sure not all of us, but equally sure a lot of us, can empathize with that idea. Maybe you've even had it yourself a time or two. It's not even an earth shatteringly different idea for a kid in a fiction novel to try to do just that: to create chaos, to right wrongs, to get revenge. This book isn't shocking and it's plot isn't a revolutionary one. The cool thing is, that's not the point at all.

Love, Heather is about the pain you feel when you find yourself alone. High school freshman, Stevie, is alone. Her parents divorced and both her mom and her dad are more worried about making their new lives than trying to make sure Stevie's life is working out. Her best friend since childhood, Lottie, has started hanging out with a new crowd (friendship breakups: what's more relate-able than that?). In short, everyone that Stevie should be able to count on is gone.

Enter Dee, a new friend who helps Stevie find the power to burn it all to the ground. Who seems to know her thoughts from the inside out. Who is exactly what Stevie was missing.

Now, given the title and references to the book, it's pretty clear that "Dee" is just a platonic, female version of J.D. from Heathers. Even the name smacks of intertextuality, so this goes a little deeper than mild references (hello, even the title and movement within the book is a nod to the film). That's not to say you can't enjoy this book if you haven't seen Heathers, but honestly, if you haven't I have two questions for you: what's your damage? Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast? Watch it. Winona Ryder, Shannon Doherty, Christian Slater . . . there's no risk here.

Movie gushing aside, this book was really good. Personal overshare here: I have three children, so while I read more than most, it takes a lot for me to put it all on hold and read for hours on end. I had trouble putting this one down because a) there's a thing I wanted to see if I was right about and b) it was really fast paced and enjoyable.

Okay, so you know how books about high school usually fall into the two extremes of being overly precious or so overly dramatic they read like a Lifetime movie script? this one, one that had so much chance of going totally off the cliff, really didn't. It felt very authentic to what it's like to be in that weird, liminal space of adolescence. sure, Stevie was self-absorbed and had a tendency to make things about her: isn't that the hallmark of being a teenager? But the other stuff, the big, thematic stuff, worked. Petrou discussed sexuality and gender and consent in ways that actually felt like they were just things the character was experiencing, rather than some super edgy, look-at-this-social-problem manifesto. this is a worthwhile read for anyone middle school aged or older. Obviously it's a bit dark for anyone younger than that and I'm sure many will even say it's too much for a middle school kid, but. . . I would argue they are forgetting what middle school really looks like. This is it, y'all. This is youth at its meanest and most honest.

Loved it.

5/5

If you are Lost, find this: a review of We are Lost and Found by Helene Dunbar

Thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the EARC I received in exchange for a fair and honest review.

Before I read Helene Dunbar’s We are Lost and Found, I read a blurb comparing it to The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I couldn’t help but do a (figurative) double take since PoBaW, Stephen Chbosky’s coming of age masterpiece is pretty much my go to read when I want to really think about the high school experience for anyone who doesn’t fit neatly into a clique. In other words, a pretty high bar was set before I even started reading.

I have to say, this book totally lived up to my expectations. It was heartbreaking and raw and addressed things head on. So head on, in fact, that you flinch as you feel them coming towards you. 

We are Lost and Found focuses primarily on our main character, Michael, his best friends, Becky and James, and his brother Connor. All the male characters are young, gay males struggling with their sexualities at the beginning of the AIDS epidemic in NYC. The book asks questions that, while specific to the epidemic, are still timely today: how do teens minimize the risks to their bodies while exploring their sexualities? How can you protect yourself when it requires so much faith in other people? How can you have faith when your life experiences are telling you not to?

Tackling the issues of STIs, sexuality, love, commitment, and familial stress, We are Lost and Found is an authentic and genuine journey through the angst of adolescence. It faces these issues without being overwrought or soap operaesque. It’s painful, thoughtful, sweet, and hopeful. This is the book every teen should read this year.

The Perfect Review . . . of The Perfect Child by Lucinda Berry

Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC of this book that I received in exchange for a fair and honest review.

Half the time, unless I find it to be just dreadful, I don't even write about endings. Endings, to me, are such a small part of the book that unless they are just dreadful, they just aren't that important. they are a way to wrap things up, which is always my least favorite part. That's why it will probably seem unusual that for this book, Lucinda Berry's The Perfect Child, I'm going to (no spoilers!) talk about the ending first.

I wasn't bothered by the ending of this book. A lot of people really, really were. In fact, if you spend three minutes on Goodreads looking at reviews of this book, that is by far the most common review point: no ending. Now, I get that complaint. Technically, it is a bit open-ended. But seriously, only technically. Like I said above, I won't give you spoilers, but what I'll say is this: the event that the book ends on is outlined enough in the pages leading up to the end that readers should get a sense of closure. The major question that is asked throughout the book is answered (although I will say that anyone who has ever read a book will know the answer pretty much from the jump). There is official closure. The book does have an ending.

All that said, I don't know how I felt about this book.

Once I was able to get into it, I read it pretty quickly. I kind of had trouble getting myself to read it at first, but once I started *actually* reading (you readers know what I mean) I finished it in two days. It's a quick, easy read and there's enough consistent action that I was sucked in.

that said, what's with all these books having such a gross, anti-adoption undertone? Before someone says I'm reading too much into it, let's be real: the attitude is very much "because she's a bit troubled, this adopted kid is not our actual family." it is there and it is blatant enough that a family member even says it.

Now, I can already hear your protestations: but Bib, she's evil. the child is evil.

Okay, that's true, but biological children can be evil. Biological children can be rapists, murdered, thieves, whatever. There is just as much chance of that. and don't we see it on the news all the time: when children mess up in huge ways that hurt people, their parents, for the most part, are still their parents. I'm not sure it's fair to the adoptee-adoptor relationship to suggest that most adoptive parents aren't just as loyal to their non-biological children.

and speaking of not fair: Christopher, whyyyyy? why are you, and basically all men in similar books (think Baby Teeth) such gaslighting buttholes to your practical, logical wives? Do you have no respect for them? Do you think they're dumb? why do men treat their wives live crazy, irrational children in this whole evil-child genre? It's a bit upsetting.


In summation: this was a quick and easy read that, despite making me want to throw it once or thrice, was worth the couple hours it would take to read it. 3.5/5 stars.