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A review by dananana
The Ship We Built by Lexie Bean
4.5
Everything about me feels so fragile after finishing this. This is a heartrending and sad story at many times throughout the book, but one filled with so much hope and love and tenderness. It's definitely a new favorite middle grade novel.
The book follows Rowan, a fifth-grader in the late ‘90s who is has a lot on his plate. At the beginning of the novel, he is starting to question if he’s a boy, feeling acute loneliness at school because his friends are excluding him for being different, feeling inadequate because of that, and also dealing with the way he’s being hurt by his father (incest/sexual abuse). He deals with all of these feelings by writing letters and attaching them to balloons, and sending them out his window in the hopes that someone is listening. This is definitely one of the heaviest middle-grade books I’ve read, but I also felt that all these issues were discussed in a very sensitive way (from my limited perspective at least).
I mentioned while reading that I just wanted to teleport into the book and adopt Rowan and I stand by that – it was so difficult to read about him turning all the blame inward, like so many survivors of trauma tend to do, and to not get adequate support from his family. It gets to the point where Rowan wonders if he even has a future, because he doesn’t know if he can imagine it. But this is where Sofie, a girl in his class that has her own difficulties, comes in. It’s his friendship with Sofie, as well as the kindness of others in his life that allow both Rowan and Sophie to imagine a future where they can be happy. To build a ship that will take them out of their difficult childhoods.
The writing of this really stood out to me. It’s incredibly tender and even lyrical at some places. There are so many subtle metaphors that made my heart ache. And so many passages that made me stop reading and just stare at the page. Here are a couple quotes that I really loved and wanted to save (I have even more saved, but not gonna put them here because of spoilers):
“When I write letters, I love that you have to read all of my thoughts and stories before I say any name at all. You have to make it to the very end to know.”
“I have big feelings with Sofie. Whenever she is here, the ship we built out of the refrigerator box feels as quiet as the falling snow. It’s dear, like a dear, dear home that we built all by ourselves.”
“I’ve heard plenty of stories about girls and boys, but never one like this.”
I also really loved the themes of this book. How the love that trans people give to the world is beautiful. The difficult intersection of abuse and being trans, which the author briefly discussed in a note at the end, and how they drew on their own experiences for this part. The importance one person in a community can make - and how their absence can feel like a terrible void.
Most of all, though, this is a book about making connections. About the power of having just one or a few people believe in you and see you. Of building a way to a future that you couldn’t imagine just a few months ago.
content warnings for the book: incest, childhood sexual abuse, homophobia, transphobia, bullying
The book follows Rowan, a fifth-grader in the late ‘90s who is has a lot on his plate. At the beginning of the novel, he is starting to question if he’s a boy, feeling acute loneliness at school because his friends are excluding him for being different, feeling inadequate because of that, and also dealing with the way he’s being hurt by his father (incest/sexual abuse). He deals with all of these feelings by writing letters and attaching them to balloons, and sending them out his window in the hopes that someone is listening. This is definitely one of the heaviest middle-grade books I’ve read, but I also felt that all these issues were discussed in a very sensitive way (from my limited perspective at least).
I mentioned while reading that I just wanted to teleport into the book and adopt Rowan and I stand by that – it was so difficult to read about him turning all the blame inward, like so many survivors of trauma tend to do, and to not get adequate support from his family. It gets to the point where Rowan wonders if he even has a future, because he doesn’t know if he can imagine it. But this is where Sofie, a girl in his class that has her own difficulties, comes in. It’s his friendship with Sofie, as well as the kindness of others in his life that allow both Rowan and Sophie to imagine a future where they can be happy. To build a ship that will take them out of their difficult childhoods.
The writing of this really stood out to me. It’s incredibly tender and even lyrical at some places. There are so many subtle metaphors that made my heart ache. And so many passages that made me stop reading and just stare at the page. Here are a couple quotes that I really loved and wanted to save (I have even more saved, but not gonna put them here because of spoilers):
“When I write letters, I love that you have to read all of my thoughts and stories before I say any name at all. You have to make it to the very end to know.”
“I have big feelings with Sofie. Whenever she is here, the ship we built out of the refrigerator box feels as quiet as the falling snow. It’s dear, like a dear, dear home that we built all by ourselves.”
“I’ve heard plenty of stories about girls and boys, but never one like this.”
I also really loved the themes of this book. How the love that trans people give to the world is beautiful. The difficult intersection of abuse and being trans, which the author briefly discussed in a note at the end, and how they drew on their own experiences for this part. The importance one person in a community can make - and how their absence can feel like a terrible void.
Most of all, though, this is a book about making connections. About the power of having just one or a few people believe in you and see you. Of building a way to a future that you couldn’t imagine just a few months ago.
content warnings for the book: incest, childhood sexual abuse, homophobia, transphobia, bullying