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A review by joyeux
Breathe and Count Back from Ten by Natalia Sylvester
5.0
This new novel from Natalia Sylvester was on my short list of most anticipated reads for 2022, and I was so thrilled to get an advanced copy that I abandoned my current reads to soak this one up. I was not disappointed! Part coming of age story, part romance, this book is a true gift to YA readers, with authentic Latinx disability rep and deep emotional resonance. And did I mention there are mermaids?
It is the summer before Verónica’s senior year of high school and she dreams of performing at the Mermaid Cove, an underwater tourist attraction in her Florida town. She had undergone numerous surgeries to manage her hip dysplasia, and swimming acts not only as a form of physical therapy but of respite and creative expression. Verónica’s strict Peruvian parents, however, do not approve of her mermaid obsession, nor of Alex, the cute boy who has moved into their apartment complex. And when a doctor appointment reveals medical information that her parents have been keeping from her, Vero's world flips upside down.
“Breathe and Count Back from Ten” knocked me back when it opened with the dictionary’s definition of anesthesia (“a controlled, temporary loss of sensation or pain induced for medical purposes”), contrasted with the main character’s personal definition (“a dreamless state; a nothingness in which you have no control”). She then draws parallels between going under anesthesia and being underwater. Each chapter, in fact, begins with definitions of a significant word (sometimes English, sometimes Spanish) from Vero’s journal. I loved this device as a way to introduce each chapter because it gives the reader a unique point of entry into Verónica’s mind. And we get to explore the power of writing, as she re-defines words.
Dualities around autonomy and culture are beautifully woven through the entire novel and are especially highlighted in the scenes with Verónica’s parents. I loved the complex family dynamics and how each of the characters in the family were written with such specificity. I also appreciated how the bilingual dialogue was so fluid and how the author incorporated both Inca and European mermaid stories into this novel. And all of the underwater scenes are written in such a detailed, evocative way!
I should add that I loved the romantic storyline for its sweetness and honesty but also appreciated that it was not the central focus of the novel. Alex (the love interest) enters her world with his own issues, which are discussed in an open and refreshing manner.
While this book is written for young people, I’d also highly recommend this book to parents of disabled and chronically ill children. There are so many elements of Verónica’s experience for me to reflect on and remember as my own child grows up. I was particularly struck by scenes that showed parent/child dynamics during medical appointments and as well as the passages that talked about early medical procedures that were vaguely discussed and information about Verónica’s body that was hidden from her. And I just about had to put down my book and clap when the author got into platitudes and the ever-pervasive “warrior” rhetoric. “I don’t want my scars to be seen as beautiful, or ugly, or strange or badass. I just want them to be allowed to be.”
In a word, phenomenal. I am so grateful for this beautiful book.
It is the summer before Verónica’s senior year of high school and she dreams of performing at the Mermaid Cove, an underwater tourist attraction in her Florida town. She had undergone numerous surgeries to manage her hip dysplasia, and swimming acts not only as a form of physical therapy but of respite and creative expression. Verónica’s strict Peruvian parents, however, do not approve of her mermaid obsession, nor of Alex, the cute boy who has moved into their apartment complex. And when a doctor appointment reveals medical information that her parents have been keeping from her, Vero's world flips upside down.
“Breathe and Count Back from Ten” knocked me back when it opened with the dictionary’s definition of anesthesia (“a controlled, temporary loss of sensation or pain induced for medical purposes”), contrasted with the main character’s personal definition (“a dreamless state; a nothingness in which you have no control”). She then draws parallels between going under anesthesia and being underwater. Each chapter, in fact, begins with definitions of a significant word (sometimes English, sometimes Spanish) from Vero’s journal. I loved this device as a way to introduce each chapter because it gives the reader a unique point of entry into Verónica’s mind. And we get to explore the power of writing, as she re-defines words.
Dualities around autonomy and culture are beautifully woven through the entire novel and are especially highlighted in the scenes with Verónica’s parents. I loved the complex family dynamics and how each of the characters in the family were written with such specificity. I also appreciated how the bilingual dialogue was so fluid and how the author incorporated both Inca and European mermaid stories into this novel. And all of the underwater scenes are written in such a detailed, evocative way!
I should add that I loved the romantic storyline for its sweetness and honesty but also appreciated that it was not the central focus of the novel. Alex (the love interest) enters her world with his own issues, which are discussed in an open and refreshing manner.
While this book is written for young people, I’d also highly recommend this book to parents of disabled and chronically ill children. There are so many elements of Verónica’s experience for me to reflect on and remember as my own child grows up. I was particularly struck by scenes that showed parent/child dynamics during medical appointments and as well as the passages that talked about early medical procedures that were vaguely discussed and information about Verónica’s body that was hidden from her. And I just about had to put down my book and clap when the author got into platitudes and the ever-pervasive “warrior” rhetoric. “I don’t want my scars to be seen as beautiful, or ugly, or strange or badass. I just want them to be allowed to be.”
In a word, phenomenal. I am so grateful for this beautiful book.