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readhikerepeat's review against another edition
4.0
Sometimes you need a book that you can curl up with and escape the world with and Call Me Home by Megan Kruse is just such a book. The short and skinny is that it’s about a woman named Amy who has tried to flee her abusive relationship several times, only to finally succeed when her son is 18 and her daughter is a young teenager. Life in an abusive home has affected each member of the family differently (such as her son’s newfound independence and her daughter’s growing resentment), but for Amy, escaping meant breaking up her family. The synopsis makes it sounds a bit like Sophie’s Choice and while it’s not nearly that dramatic, the implications of her choice set into motion a series of events that will leave no one untouched.
That said, this is really a book about Amy’s son, Jackson. A gay teenager who flees to Idaho after being left behind by his mother and sister, Jackson struggles to deal with both the aftermath of his newfound “freedom” and to chart out a new future for himself. Working on a construction crew and entering into an affair with an older man on the crew, Jackson spends his days learning all of life’s lessons at once, both the good and the bad. So while other characters are included, there’s an emphasis on Jackson’s story and it works (he’s really the most interesting character, anyway).
For the full review, visit The Book Wheel.
That said, this is really a book about Amy’s son, Jackson. A gay teenager who flees to Idaho after being left behind by his mother and sister, Jackson struggles to deal with both the aftermath of his newfound “freedom” and to chart out a new future for himself. Working on a construction crew and entering into an affair with an older man on the crew, Jackson spends his days learning all of life’s lessons at once, both the good and the bad. So while other characters are included, there’s an emphasis on Jackson’s story and it works (he’s really the most interesting character, anyway).
For the full review, visit The Book Wheel.
inkletter7's review against another edition
dark
emotional
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
rdebner's review against another edition
4.0
A moving, gritty story that is beautifully written. Part coming of age, part family drama, the story and the characters stick with you well after you've read the last page.
kate_elizabeth's review against another edition
4.0
Jackson's story was the best, by far, but I loved all three characters - I care about them, I believe in their redemption.
The time period of the book throws me a bit. It's present time, or close enough (2010), but there's almost no mention or usage of technology, internet, etc. Some of what the characters do - going to the library to use a physical phone book, etc - felt a little strange to me; the story felt more like it was set in the 80s or 90s, I guess. It's a small note, not really even a complaint.
The time period of the book throws me a bit. It's present time, or close enough (2010), but there's almost no mention or usage of technology, internet, etc. Some of what the characters do - going to the library to use a physical phone book, etc - felt a little strange to me; the story felt more like it was set in the 80s or 90s, I guess. It's a small note, not really even a complaint.
carriekellenberger's review against another edition
5.0
I received this book through an online international book exchange on Facebook and I am thoroughly impressed with Megan Kruse's Call Me Home.
This is an unforgettable story about family and siblings, and it is still resonating with me even though I finished it a few weeks ago. The story is told from three perspectives: Amy, a young mother of two who leaves her hometown with a man she barely knows, only to end up in an extremely abusive relationship, and her children Jackson and Lydia.
At 18 years of age, Jackson leaves home and finds work with a construction crew in Idaho, where he ends up falling in love with his boss, while his 12-year-old sister Lydia stays with her mother and seeks refuge with Amy's parents in Texas.
Jackson and Lydia are connected in many ways despite their difference in age, but what is most apparent is that they have both been completely traumatized by their parents' relationship and the choices they have made.
This is an unforgettable story about family and siblings, and it is still resonating with me even though I finished it a few weeks ago. The story is told from three perspectives: Amy, a young mother of two who leaves her hometown with a man she barely knows, only to end up in an extremely abusive relationship, and her children Jackson and Lydia.
At 18 years of age, Jackson leaves home and finds work with a construction crew in Idaho, where he ends up falling in love with his boss, while his 12-year-old sister Lydia stays with her mother and seeks refuge with Amy's parents in Texas.
Jackson and Lydia are connected in many ways despite their difference in age, but what is most apparent is that they have both been completely traumatized by their parents' relationship and the choices they have made.
simsarah79's review against another edition
5.0
This is a dark story that brings a few words to mind: abuse, dirt, sweat, sex, childhood, uncertainty, family.
On the surface it's about the beating of a wife and the two children who have to deal with it. On the inside it's more about the kids making sense of it. And dealing with their own lives. The writing was great, I loved how easily I got sucked in. It read to me like a short story even though it's a full length novel.
The only gripe I have with it, as trivial as it is was the over use of the word electric. It seemed to pop up every 20 pages or so and to me only so many things can be called electric.
On the surface it's about the beating of a wife and the two children who have to deal with it. On the inside it's more about the kids making sense of it. And dealing with their own lives. The writing was great, I loved how easily I got sucked in. It read to me like a short story even though it's a full length novel.
The only gripe I have with it, as trivial as it is was the over use of the word electric. It seemed to pop up every 20 pages or so and to me only so many things can be called electric.
tacomaven's review
4.0
A solid 4-star book for me, set in my part of the country by a fellow UM alumnus, beautiful passages throughout. Deals with tough subject matter in a realistic way. Looking forward to her next one.
juliechristinejohnson's review
4.0
Update 1/08/2016: Megan Kruse named a PNBA Book Award Winner 2016! Brava, Megan! http://www.pnba.org/2016-book-awards.html
The power of desire. The first flush of lust that takes us to trembling bodies we hope will shelter us, bodies that might become home. Megan Kruse, in her debut, Call Me Home writes of desire and of home, and the vast space that separates them. In her world, that space is filled with violence, betrayal, and smoldering, heart-twisting longing.
Amy, barely out of high school and adrift in a tiny central Texas town, marries Gary a few months after they meet on a blind date. Gary is sure of himself, a man with a plan. He takes her immediately to Washington state, where he attempts to farm five acres of forest in the moss and mud of rural Skagit county.
Although there are early, frightening signs of instability, Gary isn’t immediately abusive. The first blows come several years into the marriage, when the couple has become a young family, with a five-year-old and another child on the way. In retrospect, we see what a skilled manipulator Gary has become, a sociopath who holds the puppet strings of his family in a tight grip. In one wrenching scene, many years into the marriage, we also see how skilled Amy has become in responding to the abuse. The week her children are at a school camp, she forces Gary into a blowout, knowing that there is a period of peace—weeks, months even—that follow a bad beating. If she can bring down violence upon herself now she will spare her children, at least for a little while.
With non-linear flashbacks that drift in and out of the main story, Call Me Home focuses on the year that Amy leaves Gary and this time, the leaving seems to stick. With her in flight is her thirteen-year-old daughter Lydia. Left behind is her eighteen-year-old son, Jackson. Amy and Jackson cover most of the narrative ground in anxious, searing chapters and Lydia, whose clear and plaintive voice is the book’s only first-person point-of-view, provides a counterpoint of hope.
Jackson, left behind after a heart-rending betrayal of his mother and sister, doesn’t remain long in the depressing double-wide, where his father Gary is a bomb that explodes again and again, without warning. Jackson lights out for Portland, where he hustles for a few dollars, a warm bed, drink or drugs. Offered a way out by a social worker, he takes a job cleaning up debris at a construction site in the Idaho panhandle. He lives alone, deep in the dry Alpine forest, shacking up in the sleeper cab of a long-haul sem. Jackson, reserved, lonely, nearly invisible, falls in love with his crew boss, Don, a beautiful man in his mid-thirties. Don is married, but during their trysts in half-built A-frames, his promises to leave his wife tumble out of his mouth like starlings from a barn.
While Jackson kicks his way into adulthood with steel-toed boots in a tiny, depressed mining town, Amy and Lydia find shelter in New Mexico. They change their names and prepare to rejoin the world, on guard but looking forward with hope and relief. Inexplicably, Amy returns them to her hometown, where fear that Gary will seek them out is overcome by Amy’s desire to be within the shelter of the family she left nearly twenty years earlier.
Megan Kruse writes with piercing clarity and a profound understanding of poverty, abuse, maternal love and the physical intoxication of lust. Her prose is spellbinding, unflinching, and vital. Call Me Home is one of the year’s most important debuts, for it signals the arrival of a singular, forceful narrative voice.
The power of desire. The first flush of lust that takes us to trembling bodies we hope will shelter us, bodies that might become home. Megan Kruse, in her debut, Call Me Home writes of desire and of home, and the vast space that separates them. In her world, that space is filled with violence, betrayal, and smoldering, heart-twisting longing.
Amy, barely out of high school and adrift in a tiny central Texas town, marries Gary a few months after they meet on a blind date. Gary is sure of himself, a man with a plan. He takes her immediately to Washington state, where he attempts to farm five acres of forest in the moss and mud of rural Skagit county.
Although there are early, frightening signs of instability, Gary isn’t immediately abusive. The first blows come several years into the marriage, when the couple has become a young family, with a five-year-old and another child on the way. In retrospect, we see what a skilled manipulator Gary has become, a sociopath who holds the puppet strings of his family in a tight grip. In one wrenching scene, many years into the marriage, we also see how skilled Amy has become in responding to the abuse. The week her children are at a school camp, she forces Gary into a blowout, knowing that there is a period of peace—weeks, months even—that follow a bad beating. If she can bring down violence upon herself now she will spare her children, at least for a little while.
With non-linear flashbacks that drift in and out of the main story, Call Me Home focuses on the year that Amy leaves Gary and this time, the leaving seems to stick. With her in flight is her thirteen-year-old daughter Lydia. Left behind is her eighteen-year-old son, Jackson. Amy and Jackson cover most of the narrative ground in anxious, searing chapters and Lydia, whose clear and plaintive voice is the book’s only first-person point-of-view, provides a counterpoint of hope.
Jackson, left behind after a heart-rending betrayal of his mother and sister, doesn’t remain long in the depressing double-wide, where his father Gary is a bomb that explodes again and again, without warning. Jackson lights out for Portland, where he hustles for a few dollars, a warm bed, drink or drugs. Offered a way out by a social worker, he takes a job cleaning up debris at a construction site in the Idaho panhandle. He lives alone, deep in the dry Alpine forest, shacking up in the sleeper cab of a long-haul sem. Jackson, reserved, lonely, nearly invisible, falls in love with his crew boss, Don, a beautiful man in his mid-thirties. Don is married, but during their trysts in half-built A-frames, his promises to leave his wife tumble out of his mouth like starlings from a barn.
While Jackson kicks his way into adulthood with steel-toed boots in a tiny, depressed mining town, Amy and Lydia find shelter in New Mexico. They change their names and prepare to rejoin the world, on guard but looking forward with hope and relief. Inexplicably, Amy returns them to her hometown, where fear that Gary will seek them out is overcome by Amy’s desire to be within the shelter of the family she left nearly twenty years earlier.
Megan Kruse writes with piercing clarity and a profound understanding of poverty, abuse, maternal love and the physical intoxication of lust. Her prose is spellbinding, unflinching, and vital. Call Me Home is one of the year’s most important debuts, for it signals the arrival of a singular, forceful narrative voice.
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