Whew. That was dark and twisted. I liked it but at the same time - not. It was a great dark psychological read, but not the energy I wanted to be expo...moreWhew. That was dark and twisted. I liked it but at the same time - not. It was a great dark psychological read, but not the energy I wanted to be exposed to at the moment. I feel like I need to read a Jane Austen now to get some of those images and passages out of my awareness. For those that like dark psychological thrillers about serial killers - this is it! I guess it could fairly comparable to the Dexter series, but not exactly.(less)
I just love this man. I would like to just put him in my pocket and take him everywhere with me! This was so amazing. Probably one of his best yet. Ha...moreI just love this man. I would like to just put him in my pocket and take him everywhere with me! This was so amazing. Probably one of his best yet. Harmoniously hysterical and tragic, like only John Green can write.(less)
Meh. I'm kind of disappointed because I thought I would really really like her (and by her I mean Sarah Dessen) and I did want to get in my car so I c...moreMeh. I'm kind of disappointed because I thought I would really really like her (and by her I mean Sarah Dessen) and I did want to get in my car so I could continue to listen to it, but it was pretty predictable as I'm guessing everything that's going to happen next and was right. I also wanted to slap the heroine several times and just say, "seriously?! Are you that stupid?!" Otherwise, it's a good book, one that teen girls will enjoy.(less)
I wrote this review for the blog that my friend Tina and I have called Ancient Ion http://anciention.com/ but I thought I would share this here
“It’s n...moreI wrote this review for the blog that my friend Tina and I have called Ancient Ion http://anciention.com/ but I thought I would share this here
“It’s not nice when girls die.”
Last night Laurie Halse Anderson moved to the top 5 of my favorite authors. I read speak and enjoyed it immensely, but her latest Wintergirls far surpasses.
I’ve never been so subtly captivated by a book before. With many books, we know are sucked in. Even as we are reading, we are aware of how fabulous/amazing this book is and how we can’t put it down and how you glance at the clock to see how much time you can squeeze in and keep reading before you absolutely have to stop and get ready before you are late. Wintergirls slowly, carefully sucked me in from the first line to the last. There was not one moment when I zoned. Not one moment I jumped ahead to see when the chapter ended so I knew how much longer I had before I could stop and go to sleep. Time was not an issue, or even a thought. Nothing mattered but this story.
The story of a million girls.
A story of girl stuck in the in between – not fully alive, yet not quite dead yet – a wintergirl. Starving herself because being hollow is the only way to deal/or not deal with the pain. Surrounded by family, friends, therapists, and doctors who don’t really see and being haunted by the ghost of her best friend whose own self destruction led her to die alone in a motel room. They were to be wintergirls together, only now Cassie is dead, and Lia is alone full of self hatred and loathing, spiraling, trying to remain in control through denial of food and physical pain from cutting. Counting calories and pulling tricks to fool everyone around her that she’s eating and she’s fine. You read the lines crossed out about what she really thinks, and wants, and feels but doesn’t let herself.
You don’t feel sorry for Lia.
You don’t pity Lia.
You are Lia.
At moments when my physical bodily needs drew me back to the present reality, I realized I was clutching my chest, trying to breathe and afraid that if I let go, my insides would spill out all over the dining room table.
“'Dead girl walking', the boys say in the halls. 'Tell us your secret,' the girls whisper, one toilet to another. I am that girl. I am the space between my thighs, daylight shining through. I am the bones they want, wired on a porcelain frame."
Anderson’s lyrical prose is captivating, bewitching, entrancing. It’s poetry, really, more than anything else and beckons you forward into the pages until you are so far gone that only when you finish and that knot that’s in your chest releases in a gasp for air and water leaks out from your eyes in salty waves do you realize it’s 4 am and you are wide awake . . . blinking . . . wondering - what now?
I’m not going to make a statement here about about anorexia and eating disorders and how society handles these issues.
I’m not going to divulge my thoughts and feelings and discuss anything.
I just had to write.
To get it out.
To purge my feelings so I can renter my reality and vacuum my apartment. Pay my bill. Grade papers.
To live again.
But I dare you.
I dare you to pick up this story and live in winterland for a day.
Be a wintergirl.
Then come back and live your life fully and be vibrant and alive. (less)