When I finished this book, I was sitting on the steps at a park. After closing the book, I simply sat. I feared getting up, scared that my motion would somehow cement the fact that it was over.
Sarah snuck up on me, and I wasn't prepared for her character to mark me with such an impact. Drawn into the starkness of her story, I was wrapped up in this 16 year-olds' story for one reason...
This is the story of Sarah.
The story of a "normal" 16-year-old girl.
A story of change.
A story of acceptance.
A story of struggle.
A story of friendship.
An everyman story, if you will.
It sounds so trite. The story is ordinary, really. It couldn't be more cliche, actually-these complexities mired in simplicity. Or is it the other way around? Are our pedestrian everyday interactions so easy that we forget how profound they can be?
This book didn't grab me from the outset, but it crept up on me in the quickest of ways. Seemingly an angsty young adult book (told in verse, which adds to the effect), I stopped dead at page 47, as I realized the obvious. This story is much bigger than that of a high school girl navigating the pitfalls and victories of figuring out one's self.
Frighteningly familiar, these exchanges are seen with an unfortunate regularity- along with those moments of relief veiled in effrontery. Weather it's my 4th grade students in the hallways, the senior girls I mentor confessing over lunch, or my own friends casually assaulting one another in a joking manner, females are given (and give in) to this tension.
This book made me both think critically and feel intensely. That's all I hope for when I pick up a book. Given that it was my first official read of the "summer," it set the bar high, and still may qualify as my favorite of the season.
No comments:
Post a Comment