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A review by zillanovikov
It Helps with the Blues by Bryan Cebulski
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
There is a tendency for lonely, disconnected teenagers to fall too deeply into introspection. To observe their own life as they live it, both Nick Caraway and Jay Gatsby in their own story, hurdling towards their destruction, their eyes open. I know this because I was this kind of teenager. The narrator of It Helps with the Blues knows this too.
I'm not old enough to know if manic-pixie-dream-girls existed before Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind gave them a name. But I know that all too often, lonely, disconnected teenagers are looking for an external saviour. This thing we feel when we find the person we think will save us, will give us meaning, will make us finally not alone–it's not love. But it's not exactly not love either. Only it's too much to ask someone else to save you. Especially someone who needs saving just as much as we do. It's not just unfair. It's impossible. It ends in heartache. It ends in tragedy.
When I was in high school, I felt like my life was recursive, like I would be given the same choice over and over in different contexts until maybe–I hoped, if I made the right decision–I could escape the loop. Jules. Gabriel. Estelle. Joshua. The narrator is trapped in a Midwestern prison of suburbia and recriminations, doomed like Sisyphus to endlessly repeat and reexamine his mistakes.
It Helps with the Blues pours one out for the lonely kids. That was me. Maybe that was you, too
.
I'm not old enough to know if manic-pixie-dream-girls existed before Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind gave them a name. But I know that all too often, lonely, disconnected teenagers are looking for an external saviour. This thing we feel when we find the person we think will save us, will give us meaning, will make us finally not alone–it's not love. But it's not exactly not love either. Only it's too much to ask someone else to save you. Especially someone who needs saving just as much as we do. It's not just unfair. It's impossible. It ends in heartache. It ends in tragedy.
When I was in high school, I felt like my life was recursive, like I would be given the same choice over and over in different contexts until maybe–I hoped, if I made the right decision–I could escape the loop. Jules. Gabriel. Estelle. Joshua. The narrator is trapped in a Midwestern prison of suburbia and recriminations, doomed like Sisyphus to endlessly repeat and reexamine his mistakes.
It Helps with the Blues pours one out for the lonely kids. That was me. Maybe that was you, too
.