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A review by teresatumminello
My Sunshine Away by M. O. Walsh
4.0
3.75 stars
I struggle with narratives dealing with the guilt of someone whose age explains his (non)actions. Of course a 14-year-old thinks it’s all about him: it’s the nature of the beast. Yet this book seems pitch-perfect in its re-creation of how a teenage boy thinks and feels, even to the point that his obsessing got to be a bit too much for me a couple of times. It’s true too that the young person needs to realize, for his or her own benefit (as well as for those around him), that “it’s not all about you” and the narrator’s very slowly dawning realization also feels authentic.
The voyeurism, the suburban neighborhood and a narratorial choice of 'we' at one juncture reminded me of [b:The Virgin Suicides|851753|The Virgin Suicides|Jeffrey Eugenides|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1311978267s/851753.jpg|812415]. The pacing is skillful and the climax is tense, but I don’t think of this as either a mystery or a thriller (I mean that as a compliment). The parts that I see some Goodreaders found superfluous were my favorite sections, especially the comparison between Baton Rouge and New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. Not only is it an extended metaphor for the relationship of the main characters, it’s a brilliant meditation: how you interpret it may be revelatory.
Here are two quibbles and you probably should dismiss them: First, the twist of the narration (at the end) didn’t work in one instance for me. Second, the grammar-pedant within me cringed at the use, more than once, of the subjective first-person pronoun after the object of a preposition: I realize the narrator is writing informally, but he makes no other major grammatical mistakes (including using the word ‘whom’ correctly)—this kind of thing pulling me out of a story says more about me than about the novel, I'm sure.
I just discovered this novel is longlisted for the 2017 International Dublin Literary Award, more proof of the ‘particular’ -- in this case, an affluent Baton Rouge neighborhood with its share of darkness; darkness I am wont to say can be found in any neighborhood, no matter how comfortable – illuminating the ‘universal’.
I struggle with narratives dealing with the guilt of someone whose age explains his (non)actions. Of course a 14-year-old thinks it’s all about him: it’s the nature of the beast. Yet this book seems pitch-perfect in its re-creation of how a teenage boy thinks and feels, even to the point that his obsessing got to be a bit too much for me a couple of times. It’s true too that the young person needs to realize, for his or her own benefit (as well as for those around him), that “it’s not all about you” and the narrator’s very slowly dawning realization also feels authentic.
The voyeurism, the suburban neighborhood and a narratorial choice of 'we' at one juncture reminded me of [b:The Virgin Suicides|851753|The Virgin Suicides|Jeffrey Eugenides|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1311978267s/851753.jpg|812415]. The pacing is skillful and the climax is tense, but I don’t think of this as either a mystery or a thriller (I mean that as a compliment). The parts that I see some Goodreaders found superfluous were my favorite sections, especially the comparison between Baton Rouge and New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. Not only is it an extended metaphor for the relationship of the main characters, it’s a brilliant meditation: how you interpret it may be revelatory.
Here are two quibbles and you probably should dismiss them: First, the twist of the narration (at the end) didn’t work in one instance for me. Second, the grammar-pedant within me cringed at the use, more than once, of the subjective first-person pronoun after the object of a preposition: I realize the narrator is writing informally, but he makes no other major grammatical mistakes (including using the word ‘whom’ correctly)—this kind of thing pulling me out of a story says more about me than about the novel, I'm sure.
I just discovered this novel is longlisted for the 2017 International Dublin Literary Award, more proof of the ‘particular’ -- in this case, an affluent Baton Rouge neighborhood with its share of darkness; darkness I am wont to say can be found in any neighborhood, no matter how comfortable – illuminating the ‘universal’.