My hopes for this initial reading were high. The author starts off with the promise that harsh and difficult subject matters lie ahead. But these aren’t trigger warnings because she doesn’t know what we can and can’t handle; that’s strictly up to us.
This means she’s placing her trust in the readers. This book is in our hands and what we make of it is up to us.
I find that kind of thought refreshing. Nowadays, you can’t read fiction of any kind without warnings like those EXPLICIT CONTENT labels you see splattered across hip hop CDs. We are adults being treated like children, always having to learn about trigger warnings before we’re allowed to engage ourselves in any new art content.
Did Nabokov’s “Lolita” come with warnings about pedophilia? Was Richardson’s novel “Clarissa” prefaced with the stern edict that young girls shouldn’t read it because it deals with a virtuous woman’s repeated brutal sexual assaults by an accomplished rake? The only times I saw information like that was before certain low-grade horror movies and those were merely cheap publicity stunts.
Let censors label a book as being scandalous, immoral or sinful. The public can decide for itself what constitutes worthwhile painting, sculpture or literature, thank you very much.
This novel is spoken in the words of a 16-year-old girl named Minah. She doesn’t think of herself as a girl, though, and she feels a righteous anger when she realizes that something vital has been hidden from her. She’s living a new life but feels the pull of the old one, in her old neighborhood, when tragedy strikes.
The vocabulary is contemporary with flawed grammar, street slang and text shortcuts that some might find jarring. But Minah’s feelings come through loud and clear, even if she can’t always articulate them to others. Her boyfriend wonders where her new sexual heat comes from and her father is flummoxed by her wavering emotions. Either she’s spoiling for a fight or attempting to cajole him. If you’re older, you understand his frustration in trying to re-connect with his wayward daughter.
It’s YA material but with an edginess that doesn’t promise a happy ending. If you want stronger material than your usual adolescent fodder, this book is all that and more.
This means she’s placing her trust in the readers. This book is in our hands and what we make of it is up to us.
I find that kind of thought refreshing. Nowadays, you can’t read fiction of any kind without warnings like those EXPLICIT CONTENT labels you see splattered across hip hop CDs. We are adults being treated like children, always having to learn about trigger warnings before we’re allowed to engage ourselves in any new art content.
Did Nabokov’s “Lolita” come with warnings about pedophilia? Was Richardson’s novel “Clarissa” prefaced with the stern edict that young girls shouldn’t read it because it deals with a virtuous woman’s repeated brutal sexual assaults by an accomplished rake? The only times I saw information like that was before certain low-grade horror movies and those were merely cheap publicity stunts.
Let censors label a book as being scandalous, immoral or sinful. The public can decide for itself what constitutes worthwhile painting, sculpture or literature, thank you very much.
This novel is spoken in the words of a 16-year-old girl named Minah. She doesn’t think of herself as a girl, though, and she feels a righteous anger when she realizes that something vital has been hidden from her. She’s living a new life but feels the pull of the old one, in her old neighborhood, when tragedy strikes.
The vocabulary is contemporary with flawed grammar, street slang and text shortcuts that some might find jarring. But Minah’s feelings come through loud and clear, even if she can’t always articulate them to others. Her boyfriend wonders where her new sexual heat comes from and her father is flummoxed by her wavering emotions. Either she’s spoiling for a fight or attempting to cajole him. If you’re older, you understand his frustration in trying to re-connect with his wayward daughter.
It’s YA material but with an edginess that doesn’t promise a happy ending. If you want stronger material than your usual adolescent fodder, this book is all that and more.