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4.09 AVERAGE
4.09 AVERAGE
A sweet, tender, and moving story about friendship and loyalty. I'm surprised this isn't on everyone's must read list. What impressed me most was how real the story and setting, and how accurately it depicted being a young girl, as well as the general mindset of the 80s - no sugar coating, no obscure references.
This book made me feel emotions. Although sometimes I rolled my eyes because it tried really hard to make me feel and sometimes it was just... trying too hard? I don't know. Sometimes it felt like forced poetry.
One of the few (first I can think of actually) books that I read straight through on the kindle app. I was really distracted by the passages that all the people highlighted. So here are the passages I highlighted that apparently nobody else wanted to:
"I wouldn't have to worry about climbing career ladders or getting promotions, because falconry's not like that. Either you're a falconer or you're not. Either the birds come back to you or they fly away" (27).
"All of my parents' music came from greatest hits albums. It was like the thought of getting even one bum track was too much for them to handle" (76).
"If teachers pretended that everything they said was "off topic" we'd have a whole school full of straight-A students. That's what I'd do if I ever became a teacher, which I'd seriously consider if the falconry didn't work out" (138).
"I thought about myself from head to toe. It was like being forced to read the most boring part of the Sears catalog" (179).
"'No, no. It's the most unhappy people who want to stay alive, because they think they haven't done everything they want to do. They think they haven't had enough time. They feel like they've been short changed'" (203).
One of the few (first I can think of actually) books that I read straight through on the kindle app. I was really distracted by the passages that all the people highlighted. So here are the passages I highlighted that apparently nobody else wanted to:
"I wouldn't have to worry about climbing career ladders or getting promotions, because falconry's not like that. Either you're a falconer or you're not. Either the birds come back to you or they fly away" (27).
"All of my parents' music came from greatest hits albums. It was like the thought of getting even one bum track was too much for them to handle" (76).
"If teachers pretended that everything they said was "off topic" we'd have a whole school full of straight-A students. That's what I'd do if I ever became a teacher, which I'd seriously consider if the falconry didn't work out" (138).
"I thought about myself from head to toe. It was like being forced to read the most boring part of the Sears catalog" (179).
"'No, no. It's the most unhappy people who want to stay alive, because they think they haven't done everything they want to do. They think they haven't had enough time. They feel like they've been short changed'" (203).
It started out interesting and then I realized I didn't care anymore.
I think this book may have ripped the heart directly out of my chest. I loved it from the first few chapters and never stopped. It is sweet and sad and lovable and all good things.
As a potential surprise to those who hear me talk about all the books I read, I rarely feel drawn to compulsively pick up a book out of sustained interest as much as I do out of necessity or habit. I commit to book challenges because I don't always love the act of reading but I do love the outcome and wanted a sustainable way to work reading back into my life after years of wanting to do it but never prioritizing it.
This book broke that. I kept picking it up repeatedly and thinking about it and simultaneously wanting it never to end while also wanting to plow through to the end. And that's how I read the last 250ish pages in a day.
I loved June and Toby and the art described at Finn's apartment so much. It was vivid and realistic and just so sad but perfect. I don't even know how to adequately describe how much I loved this book. I came in with the knowledge that this book is about a girl and her uncle who has AIDS but had no idea what I was getting into.
This is weird but bear with me: this feeling vaguely reminds me of the first Fredrik Backman book I read (Britt-Marie was Here). I knew I'd read more of what he wrote even if the stories were about different people because I knew the feeling of the writing would be equally cozy and lovely. I was right about that so far with him and I hope Brunt continues to write so I can do the same with her.
Highly recommended.
Popsugar 2020 - A book recommended by your favorite blog, vlog, podcast, or online book club
(From the Overdue podcast; I know at some point (quite a while ago now) they mentioned their favorites from the duration of their podcast in an episode, but I cannot for the life of me remember or find which episode that was, so I feel like this one was on the list but cannot easily confirm)
As a potential surprise to those who hear me talk about all the books I read, I rarely feel drawn to compulsively pick up a book out of sustained interest as much as I do out of necessity or habit. I commit to book challenges because I don't always love the act of reading but I do love the outcome and wanted a sustainable way to work reading back into my life after years of wanting to do it but never prioritizing it.
This book broke that. I kept picking it up repeatedly and thinking about it and simultaneously wanting it never to end while also wanting to plow through to the end. And that's how I read the last 250ish pages in a day.
I loved June and Toby and the art described at Finn's apartment so much. It was vivid and realistic and just so sad but perfect. I don't even know how to adequately describe how much I loved this book. I came in with the knowledge that this book is about a girl and her uncle who has AIDS but had no idea what I was getting into.
This is weird but bear with me: this feeling vaguely reminds me of the first Fredrik Backman book I read (Britt-Marie was Here). I knew I'd read more of what he wrote even if the stories were about different people because I knew the feeling of the writing would be equally cozy and lovely. I was right about that so far with him and I hope Brunt continues to write so I can do the same with her.
Highly recommended.
Popsugar 2020 - A book recommended by your favorite blog, vlog, podcast, or online book club
(From the Overdue podcast; I know at some point (quite a while ago now) they mentioned their favorites from the duration of their podcast in an episode, but I cannot for the life of me remember or find which episode that was, so I feel like this one was on the list but cannot easily confirm)
Fourteen year old June Elbus and her 16 year old sister Greta have grown apart after being best friends for most of their lives. One of the biggest obstacles dividing them is June’s close relationship with their artist Uncle Finn, who lives in NYC with his partner Toby. When Finn receives what was then (1986) the death sentence of an AIDS diagnosis, he begins to paint a portrait of June and Greta, allowing him to spend time with his nieces in his last days. After his death, June goes against the wishes of her family and befriends Toby, developing a deep relationship with him in the last days of his own AIDS battle.
This is a beautiful novel about the complexities of love and acceptance. June is able to overcome the biases and falsehoods she’s been taught to cultivate a new, different kind of love and acceptance in her relationship with Toby, as well as finding comfort in their shared grief. I loved this heart-warming story about the importance of tolerance and openness, and on a personal note, I absolutely loved all the 1980s references, reminding me of so many of my own experiences as a teenager in the 80s.
This is a beautiful novel about the complexities of love and acceptance. June is able to overcome the biases and falsehoods she’s been taught to cultivate a new, different kind of love and acceptance in her relationship with Toby, as well as finding comfort in their shared grief. I loved this heart-warming story about the importance of tolerance and openness, and on a personal note, I absolutely loved all the 1980s references, reminding me of so many of my own experiences as a teenager in the 80s.
Tell the Wolves I’m home is devastating.
And not in the sense of tragedy porn devastating- like one of those Nicholas Sparks movies that inevitably end with cancer or an organ transplant from a dead lover. You would think the tragedy wrung from a story bookended by the deaths of the narrator’s two uncles from AIDS might be a cheap attempt at eliciting tears. But Tell the Wolves I’m Home never feels emotionally manipulative. Every bit of sadness that drip from Brunt’s words feels authentic and earned. The tears that welled in my eyes upon finishing the book felt like a reaction to the emotional pain of real people.
Instead, every page of Tell the Wolves I’m Home enveloped me with quiet devastation of a lonely fourteen-year old girl. June reminds me quite a bit of Holden Caulfield, if he was a little less angry, a bit more sad, and grew up a few decades later than he did. Both take clandestine visits to the city. Both feel a profound sense of alienation from those around them. June even shares Holden’s ambivalence to sex- she longs for a world where:
“If you found a person that you like, you wouldn’t have to have sex. You could just hold them… you could sit close to them so you could hear the machine of them churning away… you could listen to the rhythm of them, knowing you were both made of the exact same stuff”.
This is the kind of love she feels towards her uncle. It’s a testament to the author that her overwhelming “first love” for him comes across as sweet and beautiful, rather than creepy or obsessive.
Whereas Holden dismissing everyone around him as “phony”, June deals with her isolation by retreating to another time entirely. She plays in the forest, pretending that, with a precious pair of boots gifted to her by her late uncle, she can be transported to the middle ages. She longs for the days where:
“People didn’t know everything. There were things people had never seen before, Places nobody had been. You could make up a story and people would believe it. You could believe in dragons and saints. You could look around at plants and think that maybe they could save your life. And well, maybe it seems like it would be okay not to be perfect. Nobody was perfect back then. Just about everyone was defective, and most people had no choice but to stay that way.”
The prose in this book is gorgeous. It took my breath away many times. The way Brunt describes June’s internal struggles and reactions to the world feel so true to the experience of a shy and lonely kid, to the point where they uncomfortably took me back to my own youth.
“That's what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright. Like the best place I could possibly be is in a tunnel far under the cool, dark earth. Someone asks me a question and I stare at them, empty-faced, my brain jammed up with how hard I'm trying to find something interesting to say. And in the end, all I can do is nod or shrug, because the light of their eyes looking at me, waiting for me, is just too much to take. And then it's over and there's one more person in the world who thinks I'm a complete and total waste of space. The worst thing is the stupid hopefulness. Every new party, every new bunch of people, and I start thinking that maybe this is my chance. That I'm going to be normal this time. A new leaf. A fresh start. But then I find myself at the party, thinking, Oh, yeah. This again. “
Its hard to think of a passage that could describe how I felt growing up better than that. There are so many more passages I want to include in this review, but at that point I might as well transcribe the whole novel, and I don’t think anyone has time for that.
And while there were a lot of characters that I did not particularly like, I found myself loving every single one of them. Sure, Greta is a bully with cutting flashes of cruelty, Toby initially comes across as going over-the-line in his desperate pursuit of the friendship of a high-school girl. June’s mother at times comes across the worst at all- through her actions towards her brother-in-law we see where her daughters got their jealousy and cruelty. But just as I felt a flash of hate towards a character in my gut, I would come across a new scene in which I rediscovered their humanity.
In fact, despite just how detestable June’s sister Greta comes across at times, the dynamics between sisters might just be my favorite part of Tell the Wolves I’m Home.
“She was wired into my heart. Twisted and kinked and threaded right through.”
Tell the Wolves I’m Home is about how our relationships with others, for better or for worse, stay with us forever. It is a novel both moving and impactful and you should read it.
And not in the sense of tragedy porn devastating- like one of those Nicholas Sparks movies that inevitably end with cancer or an organ transplant from a dead lover. You would think the tragedy wrung from a story bookended by the deaths of the narrator’s two uncles from AIDS might be a cheap attempt at eliciting tears. But Tell the Wolves I’m Home never feels emotionally manipulative. Every bit of sadness that drip from Brunt’s words feels authentic and earned. The tears that welled in my eyes upon finishing the book felt like a reaction to the emotional pain of real people.
Instead, every page of Tell the Wolves I’m Home enveloped me with quiet devastation of a lonely fourteen-year old girl. June reminds me quite a bit of Holden Caulfield, if he was a little less angry, a bit more sad, and grew up a few decades later than he did. Both take clandestine visits to the city. Both feel a profound sense of alienation from those around them. June even shares Holden’s ambivalence to sex- she longs for a world where:
“If you found a person that you like, you wouldn’t have to have sex. You could just hold them… you could sit close to them so you could hear the machine of them churning away… you could listen to the rhythm of them, knowing you were both made of the exact same stuff”.
This is the kind of love she feels towards her uncle. It’s a testament to the author that her overwhelming “first love” for him comes across as sweet and beautiful, rather than creepy or obsessive.
Whereas Holden dismissing everyone around him as “phony”, June deals with her isolation by retreating to another time entirely. She plays in the forest, pretending that, with a precious pair of boots gifted to her by her late uncle, she can be transported to the middle ages. She longs for the days where:
“People didn’t know everything. There were things people had never seen before, Places nobody had been. You could make up a story and people would believe it. You could believe in dragons and saints. You could look around at plants and think that maybe they could save your life. And well, maybe it seems like it would be okay not to be perfect. Nobody was perfect back then. Just about everyone was defective, and most people had no choice but to stay that way.”
The prose in this book is gorgeous. It took my breath away many times. The way Brunt describes June’s internal struggles and reactions to the world feel so true to the experience of a shy and lonely kid, to the point where they uncomfortably took me back to my own youth.
“That's what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright. Like the best place I could possibly be is in a tunnel far under the cool, dark earth. Someone asks me a question and I stare at them, empty-faced, my brain jammed up with how hard I'm trying to find something interesting to say. And in the end, all I can do is nod or shrug, because the light of their eyes looking at me, waiting for me, is just too much to take. And then it's over and there's one more person in the world who thinks I'm a complete and total waste of space. The worst thing is the stupid hopefulness. Every new party, every new bunch of people, and I start thinking that maybe this is my chance. That I'm going to be normal this time. A new leaf. A fresh start. But then I find myself at the party, thinking, Oh, yeah. This again. “
Its hard to think of a passage that could describe how I felt growing up better than that. There are so many more passages I want to include in this review, but at that point I might as well transcribe the whole novel, and I don’t think anyone has time for that.
And while there were a lot of characters that I did not particularly like, I found myself loving every single one of them. Sure, Greta is a bully with cutting flashes of cruelty, Toby initially comes across as going over-the-line in his desperate pursuit of the friendship of a high-school girl. June’s mother at times comes across the worst at all- through her actions towards her brother-in-law we see where her daughters got their jealousy and cruelty. But just as I felt a flash of hate towards a character in my gut, I would come across a new scene in which I rediscovered their humanity.
In fact, despite just how detestable June’s sister Greta comes across at times, the dynamics between sisters might just be my favorite part of Tell the Wolves I’m Home.
“She was wired into my heart. Twisted and kinked and threaded right through.”
Tell the Wolves I’m Home is about how our relationships with others, for better or for worse, stay with us forever. It is a novel both moving and impactful and you should read it.
3.25; beautifully written but some parts were just a little too unbelievable for me, like a 16 yr old with just a learners permit driving into the middle of NYC in the middle of the night? Seems a little far fetched for me
Just didn't finish it after a few chapters. Possibly because of the age and immaturity of the narrator, the library book was due, and I didn't care to renew.