Three stars because the depiction of OCD was startlingly real, and that is very rare. But I hated the author's choice to make the MC filthy rich. If the point was to illustrate that OCD can affect anyone, regardless of their station in life, then make the MC rich, I guess. But island-owning rich? This will simply not be relatable to anyone. It seemed the author was also trying to push sympathy for the dad, and I just...have zero sympathy for a rich old man who ends up marrying an extremely younger woman and makes his fortune on the misfortune of others big pharma. So those are my gripes. But it was seriously refreshing to read about the type of OCD that I have.
At the beginning I had a hard time sinking into this because of the change from first person to third (I'd come from reading my all-time fave Caucasia) but eventually it made sense. "Can you remember a time when you were really real?" The main character, Maria, splits into a kaleidoscopic being, and so first person narration wouldn't work. I love the story, love the writing, love the author. Can't wait to read the rest of her work.
I didn’t feel this book was perfect but it was fast-paced and easy to read. At times I wondered if the pace was working against the story because there would be moments of really beautiful writing but so much was happening so quickly that one hardly had time to contemplate!
I'm not even sure where I heard about this - maybe NoveList trying to find readalikes for The Chocolate War? But the writing is definitely not on par with Cormier. And I did some research on the author and found out that she wrote a book called "The Terrorist" that, you guessed it, relied on Muslim stereotypes. So yeah, I'm good.
Favorite book of the year (or perhaps my life)! I cried on no less than three separate occasions throughout.
The story is narrated by Birdie Lee and begins when she is three and speaking a made-up language with her older sister. The language itself reminded me of the nonsense words my mom used to use. So, before I even got to the meat of the story, it was already reminding me of my mom.
The sisters are mixed-race, and one ends up moving to Brazil with their black dad while one (Birdie) stays with their white mom. Sandy, the mom, is fat, brilliant, rebellious, and different than her entire family. She drinks beer and listens to Bob Dylan. She keeps Birdie close even as she allows shady men in her life. She sees beauty in things others don't notice. Instead of telling Deck, her ex-husband, she loves him, she says, "I miss you."
This is the exact kind of book I'm always looking for. It's in the same vein as Beloved and The Lover: books that portend to be about something bigger than "just" a mother, but really boil down to just that. I'm not saying Caucasia doesn't have other themes - it certainly does: race, class, fatness - but at its heart it's about daughterhood and what it means to be a mother.
Overall the story was okay, definitely unexpected if you judge a book by its cover. I suck at guessing twists usually, but this one was just sort of in your face. I was hoping for something more shocking.
This wasn’t the worst memoir I’ve ever read, but it was far from the best. The title, and the criminal law it’s drawn from, has nothing to do with the story, no matter how much the author tries to shoe-horn it in.
I found a lot of the writing to be needlessly repetitive - the first half of the book doesn’t even delve into Lee’s story but instead takes the reader again and again through the details of other traumatized victims’ court cases. In between cases, Lee details her disordered eating, and the subject is later dropped and never resolved, which I found frustrating. There’s also a couple of small things that irked me because they could have so easily been edited out: she mentions separately but AT LEAST twice the way her mom rubs her hand “like she used to do when I was sick.”
A lot of the writing seemed like the kind only a daughter of a cop could come up with. At one point she asks her dad, “how many people are actually criminals?” when what she really means is “how many people are actually rapists?” I really dislike the term “criminal” in the way it’s used here not only because it disregards race, class, etc but also because the majority of rapists are never actually tried and convicted. Look, overall I loved the message - we should all stand up against the shitty men who try to silence us - but I disliked the way the message was presented.
I liked some of the characters and the queer rep, but there was a lot of unnecessary filler and the plot made very little sense. I personally liked the author’s most recent book “We Came to Welcome You” better. I thought I’d like this, too because I usually like edgy Y.A. but this was just…not it.