A review by thestorydragon
We Could Be Rats by Emily Austin

dark emotional funny hopeful inspiring reflective sad tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

 Pros:
✨Audiobook Narration
✨Character Development
✨Introspection and Inner Monologue
✨Queer Representation 
✨Play on Format
✨Commentary on Suicide
✨Heavy Topics Handled with Care 
✨Development of Complex Sibling / Family Relationship

Cons: None 

My first 5 star read of the year! It makes perfect sense that it would go to Emily Austin.

This novel sucked the life out of me, broke my heart, then gave me new lungs and mended my soul.

We start out in an epistolary format told through drafts of suicide notes from Sigrid. Laced throughout them is her story, expressed in a dry humor that’s both sharp and poignant and filled with grief. In these, we learn that our two POVs are unreliable narrators, prone to lying, unable to share their truth because they’ve been silenced and disregarded in the past. There was no good way to be a daughter, a student, an employee, a friend—there is no escape from the being disappointed and, in turn, disappointing others.

I adore the way format gets played with in this book. The POVs, drafted suicide notes, and segments are executed with precision. This could have gone wrong and felt clunky. Instead, I can’t imagine Sigrid and Margit’s story being told in any other way. 

I was a bit skeptical of Sigrid’s voice in the notes because, while she admits she struggled in school, she draws multiple literary parallels. So, when it’s revealed the Margit has been drafting the notes to honor Sigrid’s final request before her attempt, I felt as though my heart had been impaled. All that time, we were getting Margit’s voice, Margit’s reflections on their bond and their relationship, Margit’s processing of grief.
I was already sunk into the storyline, but that moment is when this became a five star read. 
When, eventually, we do get Sigrid’s POV, the difference in voice is biting in the best way.
 

The bonds and trials of sisterhood get explored in depth in this novel, as does loneliness, substance abuse, and more. Austin’s representation of suicide is raw and—for anyone who has had suicidal ideation—cutting. The distinct inclination that the desire here isn’t to die, but rather, to not exist, is as subtle as it is imperative. The romanticization of childhood wonder mixed with adult pragmatism builds Sigrid’s path toward dissonance and numb despair and the desire to simply … disappear. To be a rat, content on greasy carnival food, surround by the lights of the Ferris wheel, here and gone and happy with the time allotted. I felt flayed open. 

The political threads and oppressive power dynamics of society clotted my throat and gripped my chest. Austin manages to put into words the rage and despair at being unable to articulate one’s emotions, and how that helplessness leads to outbursts. I broke down when Sigrid slapped the pie in her mother’s face, mourning her inability to express herself in a way that would be understood by others, because that’s exactly the circumstance I find myself in all the time. It’s unbearable, to feel so much and care so much and have no point of release. To be shot down and dismissed as too much or difficult or dramatic while also being loved. It’s a mentally exhausting place to be. And it bottles up until it explodes. 

It’s taken me 30 years to accept that I’m allowed to be angry, and Sigrid’s fury was a sigh of relief.

This has got triggers galore, but we do end on a hopeful note that ties back into the relationship between Sigrid and Margit. I also had the pleasure of listening to the audiobook narration by Candace Thaxton, who did a wonderful job with this story and these characters.

What I love about Austin’s novels is that she needles her way into the core of mental health and lets us sit there in an honest, witty, matter-of-fact style that doesn’t pull punches, but that also leaves us optimistic. 

Every time I read a book by this author, I finish it and think: I needed this. My soul needed this.