You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
stridette 's review for:
My Sister's Keeper
by Jodi Picoult
Nobody in a Jodi Picoult novel thinks or speaks like a human being. I don't know anyone who lives their lives as a series of stitched-together metaphors, nor anyone who finishes every conversation with a one-liner that is both pithy and heart-wrenching but only in reference to the inner monologue of either themselves or, more perplexing, their conversation partner. That's how these vessels for pathos exist, though.
They all have approximately the same inner voice, too. Sure, the bad kid who does drugs says a naughty word once in a while, but that's about it. Everyone has their one thematically appropriate hobby or fascination that they can draw metaphors from. Everyone thinks back to scenes and draws poignant emotional lines that really don't mean that much when you think about it. It gives the book a kind of beat that makes it pretty readable, I guess, but that's the nicest thing I can say about that.
Everyone seems very upset by the ending of this book, and I guess I can see why. I'm coming at it from another angle, though. With all the talk of fire, I honestly thought one or both of the girls would die in a fire, making the whole thing moot but making the point that this is what happens when you try to control life - random horrible shit. It felt like that was what the book was gearing up to tell us. But then some other random horrible shit happened instead and it left me cold because... Is that really all we're going to get for the fire theme? Hug it out, brother's story is over, none of it had anything to do with anything? Ugh.
Actually, apart from how Picoult's schtick wore on me, the biggest bother for me was the service dog story. It was glaringly obvious from moment one (well, maybe moment two, when I realised he was joking about the iron lung) that the guy had seizures. Not only did this possibility pass by literally everyone in the story somehow, but the lawyer himself seemed to think that this was just... Look, I get it. Seizures are probably really hard to deal with. I once knew a lady with epilepsy, and she couldn't drive because of it. There's probably a million little ways it messes up your life. But it's not something that needs to be hidden away because it's just too awful to mention. It's not so embarrassing that you should break up with the love of your life rather than admit to it. Instead of his exhausting game of coming up with joke maladies every time, he could just say "seizure detection" and everyone would say "oh, right, sorry" and that would be that. Yes, people suck for assuming, and I know perfectly well from experience that invisible disabilities are something for the individual to learn how to handle in their own way. It's not like the guy doesn't have the right to conceal or make jokes. I'm more bothered that this is how Picoult decided to portray it.
They all have approximately the same inner voice, too. Sure, the bad kid who does drugs says a naughty word once in a while, but that's about it. Everyone has their one thematically appropriate hobby or fascination that they can draw metaphors from. Everyone thinks back to scenes and draws poignant emotional lines that really don't mean that much when you think about it. It gives the book a kind of beat that makes it pretty readable, I guess, but that's the nicest thing I can say about that.
Everyone seems very upset by the ending of this book, and I guess I can see why. I'm coming at it from another angle, though. With all the talk of fire, I honestly thought one or both of the girls would die in a fire, making the whole thing moot but making the point that this is what happens when you try to control life - random horrible shit. It felt like that was what the book was gearing up to tell us. But then some other random horrible shit happened instead and it left me cold because... Is that really all we're going to get for the fire theme? Hug it out, brother's story is over, none of it had anything to do with anything? Ugh.
Actually, apart from how Picoult's schtick wore on me, the biggest bother for me was the service dog story. It was glaringly obvious from moment one (well, maybe moment two, when I realised he was joking about the iron lung) that the guy had seizures. Not only did this possibility pass by literally everyone in the story somehow, but the lawyer himself seemed to think that this was just... Look, I get it. Seizures are probably really hard to deal with. I once knew a lady with epilepsy, and she couldn't drive because of it. There's probably a million little ways it messes up your life. But it's not something that needs to be hidden away because it's just too awful to mention. It's not so embarrassing that you should break up with the love of your life rather than admit to it. Instead of his exhausting game of coming up with joke maladies every time, he could just say "seizure detection" and everyone would say "oh, right, sorry" and that would be that. Yes, people suck for assuming, and I know perfectly well from experience that invisible disabilities are something for the individual to learn how to handle in their own way. It's not like the guy doesn't have the right to conceal or make jokes. I'm more bothered that this is how Picoult decided to portray it.