The opening chapters take us into the aftermath of a harrowing evening, one that changed two girls’s lives forever. Like soldiers who’ve been through warfare together, the traumatic incident has scarred them but bond them irrevocably to each other. No one who wasn’t there could understand, could help them cope, could share in their feelings. No one can say, “I understand” and mean it.
The tale is told from Sloan’s point of view and we get a crisp picture of a girl who prefers to watch and listen rather than talk. We can see how this makes it difficult for her to converse with the parade of therapists, school mates, interviewers and others who just want to know what happened THAT NIGHT.
There is much that is…odd about Sloane. Given to her parents as a foundling, she has a birthmark that doesn’t seem like a birthmark so much as a skin tag. She has an uncanny ability to read adults around her, allowing her to say what they want to hear. Her memory of the night in question is blank in places, a void that frustrates her but that she chooses to ignore in favor of peace. She resents her mother’s attempts to help her heal, even though the woman only wants to help.
Sloan and Cherry’s passionate love is there in almost every line. The lesbian aspect is taken for granted, especially in the wake of the tragedy. Compared to machete-wielding maniacs carving their way through a summer camp, what are kisses between two girls? So Sloan’s reminiscences about their time together comes off as uneventful as a romance between a boy and a girl. We sense that her mother’s disapproval stems not from Cherry’s gender but the fact that Cherry’s presence can serve only to keep the horrific incident fresh in Sloan’s mind when Sloan would be better off forgetting it.
The writing is stark, occasionally gritty (Cherry’s rougher upbringing has led her down questionable roads) and undeniably adolescent yet eschews the common sloppy lazy language you get in other YA books. (No tired repetitions of “weird” or “cool”, thank goodness). The topic is gripping and far more engaging than a forgettable 80s summer horror flick like “Sleepaway Camp” and the beginning chapters promise a novel filled with surprises and chilling revelations.
The tale is told from Sloan’s point of view and we get a crisp picture of a girl who prefers to watch and listen rather than talk. We can see how this makes it difficult for her to converse with the parade of therapists, school mates, interviewers and others who just want to know what happened THAT NIGHT.
There is much that is…odd about Sloane. Given to her parents as a foundling, she has a birthmark that doesn’t seem like a birthmark so much as a skin tag. She has an uncanny ability to read adults around her, allowing her to say what they want to hear. Her memory of the night in question is blank in places, a void that frustrates her but that she chooses to ignore in favor of peace. She resents her mother’s attempts to help her heal, even though the woman only wants to help.
Sloan and Cherry’s passionate love is there in almost every line. The lesbian aspect is taken for granted, especially in the wake of the tragedy. Compared to machete-wielding maniacs carving their way through a summer camp, what are kisses between two girls? So Sloan’s reminiscences about their time together comes off as uneventful as a romance between a boy and a girl. We sense that her mother’s disapproval stems not from Cherry’s gender but the fact that Cherry’s presence can serve only to keep the horrific incident fresh in Sloan’s mind when Sloan would be better off forgetting it.
The writing is stark, occasionally gritty (Cherry’s rougher upbringing has led her down questionable roads) and undeniably adolescent yet eschews the common sloppy lazy language you get in other YA books. (No tired repetitions of “weird” or “cool”, thank goodness). The topic is gripping and far more engaging than a forgettable 80s summer horror flick like “Sleepaway Camp” and the beginning chapters promise a novel filled with surprises and chilling revelations.