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A review by mishka_espey
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
1.0
You know that book that's been on your to-read list for ages, and every time someone mentions it, you think to yourself, Ah, yes! I'm going to read that soon! only to forget about it all over again? You know—that book you anticipate reading but haven't rushed to devour yet, because you know that when you do it's going to be worth the ride? Well, this has been my relationship with The Lovely Bones for the past few years. Again and again, I heard praises for the extraordinary narration of the 14-year-old little murdered girl watching the aftermath of her death from heaven. I'm a sucker for a good narrator, and the concept piqued my interest. Before Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train made unreliable narrators all the rage, there was The Lovely Bones. When I stumbled on a $.50 hardcover copy at a library sale, I knew it was time.
But, alas, this was one of those rare occasions where my internal book-feelers let me down—dramatically. After looking forward to it for so long, finishing The Lovely Bones left me in a hazy, cheated anger. More than anything, I can't understand its popularity. I'd like to think myself a pretty intelligent reader. Did I miss something? Sure, it had its moments, and the point of view is undeniably unique, but beyond that... what's left? A well-structured plot? Good twists? Memorable characters? A profound takeaway? Vivid imagery? Strong prose? Nope. None of the above.
I doubt this was Sebold's intent, but much like Susie is suspended from earth and time, the reader is suspended from any semblance of a plot. It doesn't move forward; it doesn't advance. There is no concept of movement. We watch the characters run into each other—or away from each other—after Susie's death, but none of them propel the plot forward, none of them have clear goals or motivations, and none of them endear themselves to us as we watch them bumbling around on earth. On the whole, they're a very under-developed, stereotyped lot. Even Susie's rapist/murderer looks bland from up above.
And then there's Susie and her heaven. Sebold spends so much time trying to explain her vision of heaven and never comes close to succeeding. Her heaven feels impersonal, lonely, and blurry. Eventually I began to wonder if she could even picture it herself, or if all these wilted descriptions were just hack writing. Susie is stuck in some sort of lower-realm of heaven because she is unable to let go of earth. She can't imagine that the world will keep on turning without her. Which might make sense, except that when it comes time for her to achieve this goal, the "climax" of the book (and I use that word so loosely) comes out of nowhere, makes no sense, and is distinctly and uncomfortably rape-y—which is ironic considering how the story began, but not in a way that I think Sebold intended.
Nothing was well foreshadowed, none of the characters' paths were developed, and whatever message Sebold was trying to impart to us got lost in her frenetic prose. That's what bothered me most of all; I couldn't understand what the author was trying to tell me. What was the point of this mess? There's one passage that's obviously supposed to set the record straight (I say obviously because she repeats the title, so you know it's important):
“These were the lovely bones that had grown around my absence: the connections-sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at great cost, but often magnificent-that happened after I was gone. And I began to see things in a way that let me hold the world without me in it. The events that my death wrought were merely the bones of a body that would become whole at some unpredictable time in the future. The price of what I came to see as this miraculous body had been my life.”
Based on this passage, I gather that Sebold is trying to emphasize how beauty can flower out of ashes. Except that the way she describes it and the way the book is written, there are no ashes at all; after the first thirty pages of the book when the actual murder occurs, neither Susie Salmon nor Alice Sebold acknowledges the horror of Susie's fate and how it tore her loved ones apart. The brutality of the story's reality never exactly feels like reality. Without first recognizing the pain, how can there be healing? Like Sebold's version of heaven, the "thesis" of the novel is vague and puzzling, maybe even half-baked.
My favorite part about the book was all the snickers I got out of Sebold's awful turns of phrase. She tries so hard to be artsy, and the result is often bizarre and hilarious. Here are a few of my favorites:
"Horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.”
"Our only kiss was like an accident—a beautiful gasoline rainbow."
"Her heart, like a recipe, was reduced."
"Her pupils dilated, pulsing in and out like small, ferocious olives."
Having finished The Lovely Bones, I feel deflated. I don't understand its accolades, and I don't think I want to. The entire book is tired, blurry, and undercooked. Word to the wise: skip this one.
I'd say this book is a waste of time.
But, alas, this was one of those rare occasions where my internal book-feelers let me down—dramatically. After looking forward to it for so long, finishing The Lovely Bones left me in a hazy, cheated anger. More than anything, I can't understand its popularity. I'd like to think myself a pretty intelligent reader. Did I miss something? Sure, it had its moments, and the point of view is undeniably unique, but beyond that... what's left? A well-structured plot? Good twists? Memorable characters? A profound takeaway? Vivid imagery? Strong prose? Nope. None of the above.
I doubt this was Sebold's intent, but much like Susie is suspended from earth and time, the reader is suspended from any semblance of a plot. It doesn't move forward; it doesn't advance. There is no concept of movement. We watch the characters run into each other—or away from each other—after Susie's death, but none of them propel the plot forward, none of them have clear goals or motivations, and none of them endear themselves to us as we watch them bumbling around on earth. On the whole, they're a very under-developed, stereotyped lot. Even Susie's rapist/murderer looks bland from up above.
And then there's Susie and her heaven. Sebold spends so much time trying to explain her vision of heaven and never comes close to succeeding. Her heaven feels impersonal, lonely, and blurry. Eventually I began to wonder if she could even picture it herself, or if all these wilted descriptions were just hack writing. Susie is stuck in some sort of lower-realm of heaven because she is unable to let go of earth. She can't imagine that the world will keep on turning without her. Which might make sense, except that when it comes time for her to achieve this goal, the "climax" of the book (and I use that word so loosely) comes out of nowhere, makes no sense, and is distinctly and uncomfortably rape-y—which is ironic considering how the story began, but not in a way that I think Sebold intended.
Nothing was well foreshadowed, none of the characters' paths were developed, and whatever message Sebold was trying to impart to us got lost in her frenetic prose. That's what bothered me most of all; I couldn't understand what the author was trying to tell me. What was the point of this mess? There's one passage that's obviously supposed to set the record straight (I say obviously because she repeats the title, so you know it's important):
“These were the lovely bones that had grown around my absence: the connections-sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at great cost, but often magnificent-that happened after I was gone. And I began to see things in a way that let me hold the world without me in it. The events that my death wrought were merely the bones of a body that would become whole at some unpredictable time in the future. The price of what I came to see as this miraculous body had been my life.”
Based on this passage, I gather that Sebold is trying to emphasize how beauty can flower out of ashes. Except that the way she describes it and the way the book is written, there are no ashes at all; after the first thirty pages of the book when the actual murder occurs, neither Susie Salmon nor Alice Sebold acknowledges the horror of Susie's fate and how it tore her loved ones apart. The brutality of the story's reality never exactly feels like reality. Without first recognizing the pain, how can there be healing? Like Sebold's version of heaven, the "thesis" of the novel is vague and puzzling, maybe even half-baked.
My favorite part about the book was all the snickers I got out of Sebold's awful turns of phrase. She tries so hard to be artsy, and the result is often bizarre and hilarious. Here are a few of my favorites:
"Horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.”
"Our only kiss was like an accident—a beautiful gasoline rainbow."
"Her heart, like a recipe, was reduced."
"Her pupils dilated, pulsing in and out like small, ferocious olives."
Having finished The Lovely Bones, I feel deflated. I don't understand its accolades, and I don't think I want to. The entire book is tired, blurry, and undercooked. Word to the wise: skip this one.
I'd say this book is a waste of time.