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amandagstevens's review
1.0
"It can't happen again, can it?" Ruby says to her mother when the second family member is afflicted with the same kind of brain tumor that killed the first (after yet another family member experiences a mental breakdown). I was hoping the same thing, but on a story level. At some point, the author would run out of tragedies to lob at her protagonist.
Or not.
Am I saying no one in reality has experienced this much darkness? Of course not. But the fact that "it happened to somebody once" doesn't make "it" credible in fiction. What we accept as truth in the news, we don't necessarily accept as plausible in a novel. In the case of this one, I can't suspend my incredulity, especially not long enough to care about this character's really-really-awful life.
Interestingly, Ruby (or perhaps Ms. Hermann?) seems to sense my skepticism. On p. 201, the following exchange takes place:
Secondary Character: "I really just can't believe your life sometimes."
Ruby: "I know. I can't believe it either."
SC: "And the way you speak about it ... You sound like you're in a play or something."
R: "Well of course I do! It's f***-ing ridiculous! Of course it would sound like a play--it certainly doesn't sound real."
Granted, dissociative behavior is a common defense mechanism, but to my knowledge, someone utilizing it is more likely to say, "Dissociating? What are you talking about?" The above conversation comes across more as a defense mechanism for Ms. Hermann, as if causing her characters to acknowledge the implausibility of events will suddenly make them more plausible.
So, could this book have pulled me in with one fewer tragedy? No, because I never get to know Ruby beyond the broad strokes: she's sensitive, observant, and thinks deeply and poetically. Grief has shut her down for a good portion of her life, but she is now on the other side of that. There's not much else to her character, certainly nothing to make her vivid or memorable. And here, again, lies the chasm between fact and fiction: if we hear about this story on the news, we sympathize with the person we know is out there somewhere living this story. If we read about it in a novel, we first have to be convinced that the character living the story is a person. Ruby never convinced me.
In addition, some reviews have praised Ms. Hermann's reliance on flashbacks. I found it frustrating. Far too many scenes are told in retrospect, rather than being shown in "real time." For example, on p. 68, Ruby sits on an apartment windowsill and muses the following:
"They hadn't fought over anything important--it started with the guidebook ... [Ruby's father] said he was tired of that guidebook, he was tired of [Ruby's mother] being so married to that g**-***n guidebook ... Which was a fair point, Ruby thought ... but her father was mean about it, and he snapped, and her mother was hurt and defensive ..."
Why on earth didn't Ms. Hermann just write the scene as a scene, show us the dialogue as dialogue, show us the characters' body language as they quarreled in the public square? Other places in the book, she drops a "shocker" line to keep us reading ("Three weeks later, [Character #1] was diagnosed with the brain tumor," "They knew about [Character #2]'s tumor for only three weeks before he hemorrhaged and entered the coma"), only to bounce to another point in time and leave us disoriented. I'm amenable to non-linear plotting when it serves a purpose, but this simply doesn't.
Between the unbelievable abundance of tragedy, the protagonist's lack of personality, and the author's insistence on scene-deadening flashback, I felt not one twinge for all that Ruby endures.
Or not.
Am I saying no one in reality has experienced this much darkness? Of course not. But the fact that "it happened to somebody once" doesn't make "it" credible in fiction. What we accept as truth in the news, we don't necessarily accept as plausible in a novel. In the case of this one, I can't suspend my incredulity, especially not long enough to care about this character's really-really-awful life.
Interestingly, Ruby (or perhaps Ms. Hermann?) seems to sense my skepticism. On p. 201, the following exchange takes place:
Secondary Character: "I really just can't believe your life sometimes."
Ruby: "I know. I can't believe it either."
SC: "And the way you speak about it ... You sound like you're in a play or something."
R: "Well of course I do! It's f***-ing ridiculous! Of course it would sound like a play--it certainly doesn't sound real."
Granted, dissociative behavior is a common defense mechanism, but to my knowledge, someone utilizing it is more likely to say, "Dissociating? What are you talking about?" The above conversation comes across more as a defense mechanism for Ms. Hermann, as if causing her characters to acknowledge the implausibility of events will suddenly make them more plausible.
So, could this book have pulled me in with one fewer tragedy? No, because I never get to know Ruby beyond the broad strokes: she's sensitive, observant, and thinks deeply and poetically. Grief has shut her down for a good portion of her life, but she is now on the other side of that. There's not much else to her character, certainly nothing to make her vivid or memorable. And here, again, lies the chasm between fact and fiction: if we hear about this story on the news, we sympathize with the person we know is out there somewhere living this story. If we read about it in a novel, we first have to be convinced that the character living the story is a person. Ruby never convinced me.
In addition, some reviews have praised Ms. Hermann's reliance on flashbacks. I found it frustrating. Far too many scenes are told in retrospect, rather than being shown in "real time." For example, on p. 68, Ruby sits on an apartment windowsill and muses the following:
"They hadn't fought over anything important--it started with the guidebook ... [Ruby's father] said he was tired of that guidebook, he was tired of [Ruby's mother] being so married to that g**-***n guidebook ... Which was a fair point, Ruby thought ... but her father was mean about it, and he snapped, and her mother was hurt and defensive ..."
Why on earth didn't Ms. Hermann just write the scene as a scene, show us the dialogue as dialogue, show us the characters' body language as they quarreled in the public square? Other places in the book, she drops a "shocker" line to keep us reading ("Three weeks later, [Character #1] was diagnosed with the brain tumor," "They knew about [Character #2]'s tumor for only three weeks before he hemorrhaged and entered the coma"), only to bounce to another point in time and leave us disoriented. I'm amenable to non-linear plotting when it serves a purpose, but this simply doesn't.
Between the unbelievable abundance of tragedy, the protagonist's lack of personality, and the author's insistence on scene-deadening flashback, I felt not one twinge for all that Ruby endures.
dannikb's review
2.0
I found the prose in this book tedious, and the plot left much to be desired. However, the concept was somewhat interesting and I feel like the author has potential to be good. This just felt like she was trying too hard.
prairiedances's review
4.0
A wonderful first novel from a fresh and engaging author. At times it was bogged down a bit in the middle with the "normal" teenage experiences and romantic angst but as a whole it was a deeply moving and engaging story. It could have easily been melodramatic with all the loss Ruby went though but the author carefully veered it away from that route. It is certainly one of those books that will stay with you long after you reach the final page.
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