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A review by konandcompany
Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano
5.0
i loved this book so fully in a way i didn’t expect, and that meant trying not to cry most of the way through and failing miserably!
this is a story fashioned after little women told in multiple points of view about four sisters and a boy who never really had family of his own. it’s an intergenerational account of trauma, love, sacrifice and grief. each member of this overgrown family is like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle holding it all together, and with even one person missing, the picture shifts or collapses and has to be messily reassembled.
the writing does not ask much from you. it has an easy flow, the cadence of a story recited out loud. i devoured it one sitting, so i'll probably need more time to gather my thoughts. for now, i can only reflect on how it left me feeling, which is weighed down with an immeasurable and expansive sense of loss but also the assurance that life goes on and daisies will grow to fill in the cracks with time.
if you think you’d enjoy a nuanced and complicated portrayal of both sisterhood and mental illness, give this one a chance!
“she wanted to be true to herself with every word she uttered, every action she took, and every belief she held.”
“when any of his girls—including rose—had come into view, he'd always given them the same welcome, calling out, hello beautiful!”
“you’re depressed, not crazy. it’s not insane to be depressed in this world. it’s more sane than being happy. I never trust those upbeat individuals who grin no matter what’s going on. those are the ones with a screw loose, if you ask me.”
“he was her heart. he had changed all the molecules inside her. sylvie had known love would come for her with the force of a tsunami. she’d dreamed of this.”
“opportunity did not knock until i built the door.”
“she existed outside her own body—she was scattered across this ground—but somehow this made her feel less vulnerable. she was painted into this family, mirrored in her father's face. she was more abundant than she'd believed possible.”
this is a story fashioned after little women told in multiple points of view about four sisters and a boy who never really had family of his own. it’s an intergenerational account of trauma, love, sacrifice and grief. each member of this overgrown family is like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle holding it all together, and with even one person missing, the picture shifts or collapses and has to be messily reassembled.
the writing does not ask much from you. it has an easy flow, the cadence of a story recited out loud. i devoured it one sitting, so i'll probably need more time to gather my thoughts. for now, i can only reflect on how it left me feeling, which is weighed down with an immeasurable and expansive sense of loss but also the assurance that life goes on and daisies will grow to fill in the cracks with time.
if you think you’d enjoy a nuanced and complicated portrayal of both sisterhood and mental illness, give this one a chance!
“she wanted to be true to herself with every word she uttered, every action she took, and every belief she held.”
“when any of his girls—including rose—had come into view, he'd always given them the same welcome, calling out, hello beautiful!”
“you’re depressed, not crazy. it’s not insane to be depressed in this world. it’s more sane than being happy. I never trust those upbeat individuals who grin no matter what’s going on. those are the ones with a screw loose, if you ask me.”
“he was her heart. he had changed all the molecules inside her. sylvie had known love would come for her with the force of a tsunami. she’d dreamed of this.”
“opportunity did not knock until i built the door.”
“she existed outside her own body—she was scattered across this ground—but somehow this made her feel less vulnerable. she was painted into this family, mirrored in her father's face. she was more abundant than she'd believed possible.”