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lifebetweenwords 's review for:
White Oleander
by Janet Fitch
Don't let the 3 star rating turn you off - this was a good book (probably more like a 3.5). I'm tying to rate my books more honestly, and while I really liked this book there was enough that bothered me that I can't give it 4 or 5 stars.
White Oleander is CERTAINLY a story that will stick with me for a long, long time. There were parts of it I found haunting and profound. And I couldn't put it down, despite not much happening most of the time (with brief spurts of action).
But, while I know it's a favorite for so many, it is not going down as a favorite for me. I found the writing to be sometimes lovely and sometimes overwrought. It's very poetic, but the poetry of it didn't always work for me. I literally rolled my eyes at some of the many, many similes and metaphors (ex. when Astrid describes her dad as 'a shape filled with rain'...WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?). I didn't feel emotionally connected to Astrid or her situation despite the fact that every foster care home she was put in seemed to be as dysfunctional (at best) or abusive (at worst) as the last. It was all just so bleak, and yet I didn't really have an emotional reaction to it because Astrid was such a detached character; and yet, I still felt a little emotionally manipulated because nothing good ever happened. Now, having said that, I could totally see how someone who relates to Astrid's situation would be a lot more emotionally invested in her than how she's presented on the page and my experience of her.
Those are my big criticisms. BUT, I will also say that the ending of the book was stunning. It was hopeful without tying everything together in a neat bow. We got a beautiful scene of closure between Astrid and her mother. Her mother, Ingrid, was a TERRIBLE, pretentious, selfish person - to the point that she almost reads like she's a sociopath. But, this conversation Astrid has with her at the end of the book reveals another side (doesn't make her a good person, but at least she shows a little remorse). I loved that. And like I said, I couldn't put the book down. It made me think about so many things, and there were quotes that struck me deeply. Here are some of those...
'I hadn't understood at the time. If sinners were so unhappy, why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.'
'Wild mustard flowered on the cracked banks, and I picked a bouquet for Yvonne. What was a weed, anyway. A plant nobody planted? A seed escaped from a traveler's coat, something that didn't belong? Was it something that grew better than what should have been there? Wasn't it just a word, weed, trailing its judgments. Useless, without value. Unwanted.'
(reflecting on her HS graduation) 'I was crying. I knew I could have done better, I could have made arrangements, I could have followed up, found someone to help me. At this moment my classmates were going up for their awards, National Merit, Junior State. How did I get so lost? Mother, why did you let my hand slip from yours on the bus, your arms so full of packages? I felt like time was a great sea, and I was floating on the back of a turtle, and no sails broke the horizon.'
White Oleander is CERTAINLY a story that will stick with me for a long, long time. There were parts of it I found haunting and profound. And I couldn't put it down, despite not much happening most of the time (with brief spurts of action).
But, while I know it's a favorite for so many, it is not going down as a favorite for me. I found the writing to be sometimes lovely and sometimes overwrought. It's very poetic, but the poetry of it didn't always work for me. I literally rolled my eyes at some of the many, many similes and metaphors (ex. when Astrid describes her dad as 'a shape filled with rain'...WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?). I didn't feel emotionally connected to Astrid or her situation despite the fact that every foster care home she was put in seemed to be as dysfunctional (at best) or abusive (at worst) as the last. It was all just so bleak, and yet I didn't really have an emotional reaction to it because Astrid was such a detached character; and yet, I still felt a little emotionally manipulated because nothing good ever happened. Now, having said that, I could totally see how someone who relates to Astrid's situation would be a lot more emotionally invested in her than how she's presented on the page and my experience of her.
Those are my big criticisms. BUT, I will also say that the ending of the book was stunning. It was hopeful without tying everything together in a neat bow. We got a beautiful scene of closure between Astrid and her mother. Her mother, Ingrid, was a TERRIBLE, pretentious, selfish person - to the point that she almost reads like she's a sociopath. But, this conversation Astrid has with her at the end of the book reveals another side (doesn't make her a good person, but at least she shows a little remorse). I loved that. And like I said, I couldn't put the book down. It made me think about so many things, and there were quotes that struck me deeply. Here are some of those...
'I hadn't understood at the time. If sinners were so unhappy, why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.'
'Wild mustard flowered on the cracked banks, and I picked a bouquet for Yvonne. What was a weed, anyway. A plant nobody planted? A seed escaped from a traveler's coat, something that didn't belong? Was it something that grew better than what should have been there? Wasn't it just a word, weed, trailing its judgments. Useless, without value. Unwanted.'
(reflecting on her HS graduation) 'I was crying. I knew I could have done better, I could have made arrangements, I could have followed up, found someone to help me. At this moment my classmates were going up for their awards, National Merit, Junior State. How did I get so lost? Mother, why did you let my hand slip from yours on the bus, your arms so full of packages? I felt like time was a great sea, and I was floating on the back of a turtle, and no sails broke the horizon.'