Take a photo of a barcode or cover
4.26 AVERAGE
4.26 AVERAGE
Representation matters and the themes in this book are important to read and write about. It is necessary to give voice to those invisible people who face prejudice and discrimination if they’re seen, and for such (any) people to feel heard in their experiences.
As to the writing - the first half was filled with cliches, stereotypes and teen angst, so not my cup of tea. The four different narrators didn’t have a different style of narration so it was difficult to work out who was speaking (other than the name at the start of the chapter or identifying facts about each character). The second half was much better, focussing in their relationships, and I really felt for the characters.
As to the writing - the first half was filled with cliches, stereotypes and teen angst, so not my cup of tea. The four different narrators didn’t have a different style of narration so it was difficult to work out who was speaking (other than the name at the start of the chapter or identifying facts about each character). The second half was much better, focussing in their relationships, and I really felt for the characters.
I picked up this book simply to fulfill a reading challenge, with a presumptive internal sigh filled with assumptions of the one of two ways this type of narrative usually plays out these days. Well thank you universe for the reminder about the costs of prejudgement. I won't go as far to say that this is a modern classic. I find that phrase trite. I will say is that in the recent trends of publishing that seems focused on the trauma of marginalized groups for adult audiences and eventual hope and positivity for youth audiences, 'Invisible Boys' is an absolute stand alone..
While a few years ago, even in my rural though American community, I would have guffawed at the thought of this level of homophobia and concepts of gender still existing either individually or institutionally the more I see the news cycle, it becomes less and less absurd to see where a story like this is so necessary. Also having gotten to know someone raised in a very similar culture to one of the central characters felt completely genuine as far as the family's interactions with one another, their faith, their traditions, and general world views not just on the main topic at hand. As harrowing as that thought is, this book left me both aching and nostalgic as the final pages clicked into my mind exactly what I had been missing in a slew of LGBT books I have read over the years.
It's a mixed, gritty, bag of highs and lows. It is full of the muddled self assured, questions, ambitions, and suspicions, humor, sorrow, anger, and defiance that is feeling and living fully and deeply. Please make no mistake, this is an incredibly dark book in a lot of ways. There are abusive households, mentions of suicide, self denial, passing mentions of other self harm, sex, homophobia and some cases of body shaming among other issues that may be hard for some readers. I strongly caution that it could trigger dark places if a teen is already struggling. But there is also levity. There are those moments that you find hope and to cling onto, joy, that people seem to be able to find even in the worst of times is part of the need to survive and flourish.
This book does not cut corners. It leaves questions. There is no cut and dry answers. It lets each character be messy, to have characteristics that will make you curse them or want to shake them one moment and empathize with them the next. It showed clearly that everyone has different journeys. They do not all end a single way. But what I love the most is that it trusts the reader in a way that I think we've forgotten to. Or, rather, that publishers are scared to.
They are afraid of ultimate the same things that those seeking to ban works they find objectionable due to topic are. They are afraid that if they show the shadow of things they will be brought down by those long craving positive depictions of their communities. Those stories are very necessary. We need happy endings for those cast aside. But those are not everyone's tales. They're afraid that putting words about those experiences in front of youth that they will gravitate only to the worst parts of these characters lives and their worst decisions.
I said I would not call this a classic. What I will say is that it invokes that trust in the reader that many books that have been mandatory reading for teenagers for decades have. In spirit it is a return to being able to present material that is hard to hear, process, and trust kids to question, to see light where it is meant to be seen, and to maybe help puzzle out where their own heads are. That being said it is a book to be discussed. It should not be taken lightly. But isn't that why the classics have a place in schools? It is not just linguistic style that makes a book lasting. It is the place it can have in the human experience and mind. This may not be a classic, but is absolutely and utterly lasting.
While a few years ago, even in my rural though American community, I would have guffawed at the thought of this level of homophobia and concepts of gender still existing either individually or institutionally the more I see the news cycle, it becomes less and less absurd to see where a story like this is so necessary. Also having gotten to know someone raised in a very similar culture to one of the central characters felt completely genuine as far as the family's interactions with one another, their faith, their traditions, and general world views not just on the main topic at hand. As harrowing as that thought is, this book left me both aching and nostalgic as the final pages clicked into my mind exactly what I had been missing in a slew of LGBT books I have read over the years.
It's a mixed, gritty, bag of highs and lows. It is full of the muddled self assured, questions, ambitions, and suspicions, humor, sorrow, anger, and defiance that is feeling and living fully and deeply. Please make no mistake, this is an incredibly dark book in a lot of ways. There are abusive households, mentions of suicide, self denial, passing mentions of other self harm, sex, homophobia and some cases of body shaming among other issues that may be hard for some readers. I strongly caution that it could trigger dark places if a teen is already struggling. But there is also levity. There are those moments that you find hope and to cling onto, joy, that people seem to be able to find even in the worst of times is part of the need to survive and flourish.
This book does not cut corners. It leaves questions. There is no cut and dry answers. It lets each character be messy, to have characteristics that will make you curse them or want to shake them one moment and empathize with them the next. It showed clearly that everyone has different journeys. They do not all end a single way. But what I love the most is that it trusts the reader in a way that I think we've forgotten to. Or, rather, that publishers are scared to.
They are afraid of ultimate the same things that those seeking to ban works they find objectionable due to topic are. They are afraid that if they show the shadow of things they will be brought down by those long craving positive depictions of their communities. Those stories are very necessary. We need happy endings for those cast aside. But those are not everyone's tales. They're afraid that putting words about those experiences in front of youth that they will gravitate only to the worst parts of these characters lives and their worst decisions.
I said I would not call this a classic. What I will say is that it invokes that trust in the reader that many books that have been mandatory reading for teenagers for decades have. In spirit it is a return to being able to present material that is hard to hear, process, and trust kids to question, to see light where it is meant to be seen, and to maybe help puzzle out where their own heads are. That being said it is a book to be discussed. It should not be taken lightly. But isn't that why the classics have a place in schools? It is not just linguistic style that makes a book lasting. It is the place it can have in the human experience and mind. This may not be a classic, but is absolutely and utterly lasting.
Wow.
I'd seen this book floating around on my local library's shelves, but I didn't think much of it at first until I kept heard it getting brought up with queer book enthusiasts.
Firstly, I'm surprised it's by a Gero author.
Secondly, I'm surprised how much of a punch it packs.
While I've got family in Geraldton, I don't often go up that way. However, I'd love my best friend to read it, as she's Gtown born and bred, and it'd be awesome to get her input. But from my jaunts up that way, I was able to pinpoint locations (HJs! Woorree! Bluff Point!), which felt like I was in with the cool kids.
From the start, I had a feeling it wouldn't end happily. Charlie leads a miserable existence, and I really wanted the poor kid to be given a break. Everything keeps getting worse and worse for him, and he really needed a hand. Sure, it's offered to him a few times, with counselling and the sort, and he repeatedly rebuffs it... but if he had an adult in his life who really spoke to him on his level, maybe it wouldn't have been so hard.
I had a feeling it was Matt writing the letters from about the second or third one. While I'm saddened his story ended the way it did- and in the manner it did- it wasn't a surprise.
Zeke really made that impulsive a decision, huh? His parents did feel a little one dimensional, and I thought Robbie and Natalie might have given him a little loving support, but I think there needed to be a real push for him to run off. Given how important school was for him, I'm surprised he was willing to throw it all away, but... well, his father did punch him.
As sad as it is, Hammer's ending makes the most sense. With any luck he won't feel compelled to stay in the closet forever. Maybe he gets drafted, maybe he doesn't, but hopefully he grows and develops some confidence in himself. I can buy him saying he feels it's a choice, that he's not gay- he could very well be bi, and strongly leaning for me.
The book also does end in the middle of a scene. Maybe Zeke doesn't get on the bus. Maybe Hammer comes out to his brother. $2000 isn't a lot of money to get by in Perth. They're all under eighteen. But for all the Charlies and Zekes and Hammers in Geraldton: you deserve the greatest happiness.
I'd seen this book floating around on my local library's shelves, but I didn't think much of it at first until I kept heard it getting brought up with queer book enthusiasts.
Firstly, I'm surprised it's by a Gero author.
Secondly, I'm surprised how much of a punch it packs.
While I've got family in Geraldton, I don't often go up that way. However, I'd love my best friend to read it, as she's Gtown born and bred, and it'd be awesome to get her input. But from my jaunts up that way, I was able to pinpoint locations (HJs! Woorree! Bluff Point!), which felt like I was in with the cool kids.
From the start, I had a feeling it wouldn't end happily. Charlie leads a miserable existence, and I really wanted the poor kid to be given a break. Everything keeps getting worse and worse for him, and he really needed a hand. Sure, it's offered to him a few times, with counselling and the sort, and he repeatedly rebuffs it... but if he had an adult in his life who really spoke to him on his level, maybe it wouldn't have been so hard.
I had a feeling it was Matt writing the letters from about the second or third one. While I'm saddened his story ended the way it did- and in the manner it did- it wasn't a surprise.
Zeke really made that impulsive a decision, huh? His parents did feel a little one dimensional, and I thought Robbie and Natalie might have given him a little loving support, but I think there needed to be a real push for him to run off. Given how important school was for him, I'm surprised he was willing to throw it all away, but... well, his father did punch him.
As sad as it is, Hammer's ending makes the most sense. With any luck he won't feel compelled to stay in the closet forever. Maybe he gets drafted, maybe he doesn't, but hopefully he grows and develops some confidence in himself. I can buy him saying he feels it's a choice, that he's not gay- he could very well be bi, and strongly leaning for me.
The book also does end in the middle of a scene. Maybe Zeke doesn't get on the bus. Maybe Hammer comes out to his brother. $2000 isn't a lot of money to get by in Perth. They're all under eighteen. But for all the Charlies and Zekes and Hammers in Geraldton: you deserve the greatest happiness.
dark
emotional
funny
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I loved this book and cried. It was a very raw and important story about growing up gay in a rural Australian country town full of toxic masculinity.
challenging
emotional
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Real and raw. Rips your heart out in all the best ways.
challenging
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This is a spectacular read. It’s extreeeeemely Australian (the language, the places, the characters) and, as an Australian, I found it as relatable as I found it brutally honest. This book deals with homophobia, internalised homophobia, depression, ideas of masculinity, cultural and religious views of homosexuality and masculinity, toxic masculinity and much much more (no spoilers).
But that’s not to say this isn’t fun, funny, moving and satisfying. You will laugh. You may well cry. I also spent a lot of time angry and frustrated at the views being expressed and the decisions being made by characters. And this story was all too real for that.
I grew up gay in the bush in Western Australia, where this story is set. This felt all too real to me. The writing is deceptively simple. Don’t let that deceive you. The language might be raw, but it’s exquisite, and that story is exceptionally well told. This won many awards, and so it should. I encourage all readers who enjoy LGBT and YA stories to read this book. It is a cut above the usual stuff we all fawn over.
But that’s not to say this isn’t fun, funny, moving and satisfying. You will laugh. You may well cry. I also spent a lot of time angry and frustrated at the views being expressed and the decisions being made by characters. And this story was all too real for that.
I grew up gay in the bush in Western Australia, where this story is set. This felt all too real to me. The writing is deceptively simple. Don’t let that deceive you. The language might be raw, but it’s exquisite, and that story is exceptionally well told. This won many awards, and so it should. I encourage all readers who enjoy LGBT and YA stories to read this book. It is a cut above the usual stuff we all fawn over.