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The Grief Keeper
This stunning YA debut is a timely and heartfelt speculative narrative about healing, faith, and freedom.
Seventeen-year-old Marisol has always dreamed of being American, learning what Americans and the US are like from television and Mrs. Rosen, an elderly expat who had employed Marisol's mother as a maid. When she pictured an American life for herself, she dreamed of a life like Aimee and Amber's, the title characters of her favorite American TV show. She never pictured fleeing her home in El Salvador under threat of death and stealing across the US border as "an illegal", but after her brother is murdered and her younger sister, Gabi's, life is also placed in equal jeopardy, she has no choice, especially because she knows everything is her fault. If she had never fallen for the charms of a beautiful girl named Liliana, Pablo might still be alive, her mother wouldn't be in hiding and she and Gabi wouldn't have been caught crossing the border.
But they have been caught and their asylum request will most certainly be denied. With truly no options remaining, Marisol jumps at an unusual opportunity to stay in the United States. She's asked to become a grief keeper, taking the grief of another into her own body to save a life. It's a risky, experimental study, but if it means Marisol can keep her sister safe, she will risk anything. She just never imagined one of the risks would be falling in love, a love that may even be powerful enough to finally help her face her own crushing grief.
The Grief Keeper is a tender tale that explores the heartbreak and consequences of when both love and human beings are branded illegal.
336 pages, Paperback
First published June 11, 2019
106 people are currently reading
14223 people want to read
About the author
Alexandra Villasante
8 books179 followersAlex Villasante has always loved telling stories—though not always with words. She has a BFA in Painting and an MA in Combined Media (that’s art school speak for making work out of *anything*). Born in New Jersey to immigrant parents, Alex has the privilegio of dreaming in both English and Spanish.
When she’s not writing, painting or chasing chickens around the yard, Alex plans conferences and fundraisers for non-profits. You can find Alex on Instagram at @magpiewrites or on her website, alexandravillasante.com
When she’s not writing, painting or chasing chickens around the yard, Alex plans conferences and fundraisers for non-profits. You can find Alex on Instagram at @magpiewrites or on her website, alexandravillasante.com
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 526 reviews
August 6, 2020
The Grief Keeper follows Marisol, an immigrant from El Salvador applying for asylum in the United States with her sister Gabby, who she's attempting to protect. When her asylum request gets turned down, she's given an opportunity to stay in the U.S.: to literally take on the grief of another girl about her age. The girl, Ray, isn't aware of what's happening; she's only aware that they're both going through a treatment together.
It's a really complicated narrative about how immigrants are devalued and pushed into negative jobs. The only reason Marisol can be offered this job is because no one else would be willing to take it: she's in a desperate position, and because she's in a desperate position, she's essentially preyed upon for this job.
Marisol, as a lead, is a character who could so easily be meek or boring: for a lot of the book, she’s unwilling to speak up. But her strength comes out in other ways. She's willing to do anything to protect her sister and her loved ones, even if she's not always willing to do everything to stick up for herself.
She also, throughout the book, falls in love with Ray, the girl who she's taking the grief away from. The romance between them is written in such an interesting and respectful way.
I ended up really getting invested despite, when I first was coming across the premise of this relationship, feeling a little skeeved out. This would be such an easy narrative to get wrong, to make feel disrespectful to Marisol or one-sided. But it's just tender, and it's just sweet. The narrative doesn’t prioritize romance only, either: it allows Marisol to find some kind of family with Olga, for example, who's a really interesting side character.
In general, the narrative is respectful and handles complex topics with a deft hand. There are a few characters in here that could very easily be villainized, both of whom are treated with more nuance.
This book was wonderfully well-done, and well-written, and I know it’ll stick with me for a long time.
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It's a really complicated narrative about how immigrants are devalued and pushed into negative jobs. The only reason Marisol can be offered this job is because no one else would be willing to take it: she's in a desperate position, and because she's in a desperate position, she's essentially preyed upon for this job.
Marisol, as a lead, is a character who could so easily be meek or boring: for a lot of the book, she’s unwilling to speak up. But her strength comes out in other ways. She's willing to do anything to protect her sister and her loved ones, even if she's not always willing to do everything to stick up for herself.
She also, throughout the book, falls in love with Ray, the girl who she's taking the grief away from. The romance between them is written in such an interesting and respectful way.
I ended up really getting invested despite, when I first was coming across the premise of this relationship, feeling a little skeeved out. This would be such an easy narrative to get wrong, to make feel disrespectful to Marisol or one-sided. But it's just tender, and it's just sweet. The narrative doesn’t prioritize romance only, either: it allows Marisol to find some kind of family with Olga, for example, who's a really interesting side character.
In general, the narrative is respectful and handles complex topics with a deft hand. There are a few characters in here that could very easily be villainized, both of whom are treated with more nuance.
This book was wonderfully well-done, and well-written, and I know it’ll stick with me for a long time.
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September 15, 2019
for once I could choose a book I actually wanted to read for school, and I didn’t hate it!!! it’s like not forcing students to read a book they don’t care about means they actually enjoy it!!!!!
July 29, 2019
It grieves me to do this (I know, low blow, sorry), but I feel I have to get my thoughts on this book out there, since there are so many positive reviews of it, a differing opinion might help to balance things out and gain another perspective. Especially for a book that handles such delicate, multilayered, and important subject matters, and is constantly praised for its diversity.
Because of this, my contrary review of 'The Grief Keeper' might be controversial, polarizing, and lots are going to hate it.
But it is my opinion, nothing more. And I will try to organise my thoughts as best I can. Feel free to disagree or agree.
Another disclaimer: My views reflect the book and the book alone, not the author, who I'm sure is a lovely person with the best intentions.
What I must say about 'The Grief Keeper' is that its premise is AMAZING. A teenage girl from El Salvador goes through hell and back to cross the American boarder for any chance of a better, safer, easier life, whilst protecting her younger sister who she would die for. Going back may mean a death sentence - both for causing the destruction of a gang that ruined her life, and for being gay. She would do anything to stay in America and provide for her sister, even if that means subjecting herself to an experiment that allows her to take/absorb the grief of others. She becomes a grief keeper, of sorts; for soldiers with PTSD, or any white person's grief and depression, as if she hasn't already suffered enough on her own.
It's a brilliant reflection of America's dehumanizing immigration laws and boarder control, and its terrible treatment of migrants - "To live here, you must do something for us, you must fix our messes and take our shit, and do the jobs no privileged person with a choice wants. You have no right to complain; you're lucky we're giving you this much. You owe us." Its treatment of children absolutely needs to be highlighted as well. Not to mention there's the fact that trauma can't be measured, can't be judged on which is more "important" to focus on depending on the class of the person suffering, nor can it be "moved" just like that; healing doesn't work that way. Psychological "cures" are never so simple in human beings.
So you can imagine how hyped I was to read 'The Grief Keeper'. Such high expectations are warranted to what truly sounds like the best idea in the world. I think it is partly because of this that I originally rated it three stars, since while it has flaws, its heart is in the right place.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realised that the bad outweighs the good in it in my mind. Top it off with my disappointment and you have a very sad, crushed reader in your hands.
Now onto the book itself:
First thing I noticed right away is that the pacing is so fast! We are immediately with Marisol Morales and her sister Gabi in an American asylum (in Pennsylvania, I think?) where she is being interviewed. No explanation on how they got there, or what they've been through. Even the interview barely scratches the surface. And nearly thirty pages later, the grief-keeping plot itself kick starts in New York, after a very short escape attempt from a detention center.
Bits and pieces of the girls' journey are mentioned infrequently throughout, but it's all in small, inconsequential detail, and I felt detached from it. Marisol mentions arriving in Texas and another completely different place once, when she'd started crossing the boarder, and I'm like, "Huh? When did that happen? What happened there? How did they manage to get to these spots? Care to explain?" But no: 'The Grief Keeper' is extremely vague on details and important information that would be needed in order for the reader to feel grounded in its reality and believe in it and the heroine's plight.
I mean, it's great that we are cutting to the chase and the main action directly, and not wasting too much time on infodumps, flashbacks, and excessive worldbuilding. But slowing down a little creates opportunities for atmosphere, investment, authenticity, and understanding the thought processes and emotional states of the characters; so that we care more about what is going on with them.
A supersonic pace, vagueness, ill-advised lack of detail and explanations: These are some of the main issues I have with 'The Grief Keeper'. Speaking of...
Once Marisol is told about the government-funded grief-transfer experiment (called the CTS project), she agrees to it almost immediately with no thoughts and feelings over the various (putting it lightly) implications. The barely-presented assumption is that she would do anything for her little sister to have a normal life in the States. Indeed, the loving sisterly bond is one of the best parts of the book. But I find it hard to stomach that Marisol would blindly agree to be a clear, obvious lab rat - a foreigner and illegal immigrant; meaning, an easy target for government agents - after everything she has been through, after all the distrust she's harboured, even if in the end she's given no choice.
Some scientific methods on how the procedure of transferring grief and PTSD from one person to another are explained (something to do with neurotransmitters and other chemicals in the brain), even if they are not exactly accurate. That's okay, as it is science fiction, and metaphorical in a way that serves the story's political messages.
What is never explained, however, is how Marisol can not only feel the emotions of her "donor", but also gain their memories of their traumatic event. She experiences everything firsthand, which supposedly should go away naturally very soon since the feelings are not attached to her personally, and they mean nothing to her, so in theory the experiment is overall harmless for everyone involved. She keeps the "retaining memories" part quiet at first because she doesn't want to disappoint her superiors with complicated news, and risk the experiment shutting down and her and her sister being deported. Never mind that science is all about the data, the unexpected and unplanned, and adapting to unforeseen developments all the time. It is kind of frustrating, and makes Marisol appear meek and a further tool of the US government.
When the side effect is found out later in the book, it's hardly a footnote - nobody cares, no explanation for the phenomenon is given, and it's not mentioned again. Terrific.
In addition to the pacing and ambiguity issues, before I even get to Marisol's main donor (her first is a soldier who was next to her in a courtyard at lunch, but then he disappears and is never mentioned again; see a pattern here?) and love interest, Rey, first I must write about the character inconsistencies. Marisol can be strong, independent, loud and snarky, every inch the protective older sister in a foreign country, backing down only when she has to. But also, depending on the plot, she's meek, obedient, and quiet when she should be screaming and protesting to the heavens, her self-preservation and esteem at a low and at odds with the girl who risked everything to get herself and her sister where they are now. It doesn't feel like a natural progression, like Marisol is suffering too much to bear in shouldering another girl's grief, and she's become numb, beaten down, depressed. It happens too quickly, unevenly and confusedly to flow well, with her character and the story.
Then there's the people responsible for Marisol's suffering and the CTS project. Dr. Deng I think is meant to be the villain, with his snide, patronising remarks and behaviour, and predatory smiles. But he's not in the story much and he receives no comeuppance whatsoever. We last see him treating a relapsed Marisol without a care in the world at about the third of the way through the book, then he disappears and is never mentioned again.
Indranie Patel is like the voice of reason and the sympathetic mentor to Marisol's case. I think. She really isn't that sympathetic to the girl at all, and in some instances her dialogue is barely distinguishable from Dr. Deng's, patronising and telling Marisol to trust her entirely with no explanation or answers to important questions. Everybody has flaws, and it is beaten into the ground that Indranie is a government employee and therefore morally gray at best. However I can't forgive the inconsistency, as I can't get a hold of just who Indranie is and why I should care about her, as I'm clearly supposed to.
She doesn't care about Marisol, as evidenced when, later on, Marisol, clinically depressed and overwhelmed with Rey's grief (which never went away, big surprise, and nobody gives a damn), in a daze after a fight with Gabi, unconsciously tries to commit suicide. Indranie saves her, which is meant to be the moment we see her as a hero and can trust her, as her calm wall breaks down and she cries with regret and worry. But she spoils it with these lines:
"I did everything I could to ruin your life. But I swear I didn't want you to suffer. I only wanted to keep Rey safe." - Page 237
What?
"I'm not a bad person." - Page 237
Your actions and words speak otherwise. You used and lied to a desperate immigrant girl and her little sister. Because you're in love with the grief-stricken rich white donor's father. You knew exactly what you were doing, when you should have known better.
When Indranie initially came to the detention center, looking for the perfect candidate and lab rat:
"I waited in the hallway. I looked into the dormitories--all those terrified faces, mothers and children, little babies, all crammed into rooms, rows and rows of metal beds, piles of clothes. I wasn't sure I could do it." - Page 239
Then, just when you think she might have a conscience:
"It was nearly twenty minutes before the director told me they couldn't find you, or your sister. I knew it was time for me to leave. I couldn't get mixed up in a scandal of missing immigrant children." - Page 239
She makes it all about her. No further comment is made about the treatment of the immigrants at the detention center, neither by Indranie nor by Marisol. Bizarrely, they don't care. Not enough, anyway.
So the CTS project is skeevy, unethical, and has consequences. What I want to shout to these people is: What the hell did you expect?
But that's not all. Indranie goes on to say how she picked up Marisol and Gabi, "two brown girls", walking from the center, and how it was bingo for her, and for the experimentand for getting into Rey's dad's pants. Now she wants it all to end and for Marisol to free herself from the project. When Marisol refuses (out of masochism? Out of self-punishment? Out of martyrdom? Out of love for Rey? It's complicated, yet frustratingly vague, again), Indranie snaps:
"You were this close to killing yourself! You think I can live with that? I can't. I won't. You're going to take that cuff off." - Page 241
That's right. She makes a teenage girl's pain and agony - which she put her in in the first place - and subsequent attempted suicide, all about her. How it would affect her. This is never called out on, so I can't be sure if the author knew what she was doing with the way the above line, and the others, are worded.
Screw you, Indranie Patel. I have no sympathy for you.
At least there was an attempt to make you a three-dimensional character, unlike Dr. Deng.
The one good thing about this chapter is this paragraph:
I turn to look at Indranie. Can she really have been so credula? To believe it would be like magic? Magic is power without consequences. That's why it isn't real. Everything has consequences. - Page 238
Simple. Powerful. Relevant. Effective. One of the best lines.
Finally, I will talk about Rey, the donor. She is Marisol's age, conveniently, and stinking rich, white, and traumatised by the death of her twin brother at a concert, presumably by a terrorist attack. Yeah, it is not stated outright if it was a terrorist attack that caused the explosions, much less who had caused all those deaths and why. For a book this politically-charged, and one delving into how differently people grieve, that is a deplorable narrative choice. Specific details needed in order to understand your plot and characters, as well as logical reasons, are stupid and unnecessary, according to 'The Grief Keeper'.
Anyway, I quite liked Rey and how real she was. Her grief, wanting to keep it to herself despite it killing her, and Marisol's eventual absorption of it, giving her a chance of lightness and happiness, felt natural and heartbreaking. Rey is unstable and unpredictable; highlighting how she copes with grief and how its sudden absence can be affecting her mind. She's numb, not totally there, not totally herself. It's unnatural, what is done to her.
Marisol also lost a brother to violence back in El Salvador, and while for understandable reasons (trust me, this is something to savour in this book) she no longer cares for him and that he's gone, it is something she shares in common with Rey. I cared about the two devastated girls' blossoming relationship... at first.
When Rey finds out about how the grief-transmutation is affecting Marisol (again, what did anyone expect?! Why didn't Rey suspect anything before? Marisol has obviously been depressed), she is beyond angry. Much more than Marisol, the victim, is. The rich American girl confronts Indranie. After Indranie explains how her own immigrant parents had to take the menial jobs they could to survive and live in the US, Rey says:
"Do not fucking compare this with cleaning bathrooms and being a nanny. This could have killed Marisol." - Page 276
Here it gets very uncomfortable. In context, Rey has every right to be mad at these adults who are dictating her life and feelings, and Marisol's (Rey's father is present, and for some reason he doesn't volunteer for the CTS project himself, despite his own grief at losing his son). But we also have a rich American white girl undermining the experiences of brown-skinned immigrants. While the immigrants themselves remain meek and quiet about it. The subtext is unmistakable, even if unintentional and misguided. The plot progression has forced this to happen.
Rey is angry for the benefit of Marisol, her lover. But Marisol herself hardly says a word in her own defense. She lets a white person do it for her. She is so self-pitying she doesn't care about herself anymore, and it reads as pathetic. Read this exchange:
'"You aren't an illegal. You are a person. A girl." [...] "You have a right to live and love. And to not be afraid."
"I don't," I say. "No one has that right."' - Page 278
Uh... okay. Care to elaborate on that? No?
And what Rey is doing here is basically whitesplaining. Or Americansplaining, or USsplaining, whatever you want to call it. She's whitesplaining to a poor immigrant girl about how important she is and that she matters, when the immigrant wouldn't be able to figure that out on her own, for whatever reason. Heck, Rey is the one to coin the term "grief keeper". It is one of Rey's white friends who'd compared Marisol to a lab rat in the first place; it apparently didn't cross our heroine's mind until then. But then it's glossed over and barely explored further.
Marisol is given extremely little agency and assertion, not to mention self-awareness, in her own story. For someone who has gone through so much shit, she is rather too ignorant, gullible, naive, and eager to be used.
Would Rey be so caring and sympathetic if she and Marisol weren't in love, I wonder? There is a huge class and privilege divide between them, and it's an elephant in the room that I can't shake off after this development.
At that, the experiment is over (for them, but I seriously doubt it will not continue to be used on someone else, performed by the suspect Dr. Deng, but that is yet another detail that isn't explored further and is dropped before any implications can even manifest), and all is undeservedly forgiven.
The last big issue I want to talk about is the ending. Or the lack of one. There is no climax; only Marisol finding her few-hours-missing sister at a party, mirroring how she'd sworn to protect Gabi after she was practically kidnapped and almost raped by a gang leader in El Salvador. Nothing happens at the party, however, and Marisol grabs Gabi and...
Final chapter, which is four pages long, where Marisol is seeking asylum once again. In this interview she tells the truth, about why she left her home country as a refugee. Because of the threats made against her due to her sexual orientation, and against her sister who was almost a victim of corrective rape so she wouldn't turn out like Marisol. Then Marisol leaves and rides into the sunset with Rey and...
That's it. End of book. No insights. No reflection on the nature of grief and that it can't be measured. No epiphany on the limitless layers - micro and macro - of human suffering and prejudice. No bookends - what happens now? Do the sisters live with Rey? Where's Gabi? Where's Dr. Deng? What about Marisol's mother, who is still in El Salvador and is waiting to be reunited with her daughters? What about Mrs. Rosen, who was supposed to have been the girls' guardian in the US, but who had died when they arrived? Marisol had kept the death a secret from Gabi until the middle of the story, and when it's out, it turns into a nonissue. One scarcely explored.
It goes nowhere. Just like nearly every issue presented.
'The Grief Keeper' ends as it begins: Vague, fast, with very little care for necessary details.
No wonder it's only 306 pages long. For a book that should have been heavy.
There isn't a cliffhanger, and I'm not sure about a sequel being planned. There is no suggestion of one.
Wow this is a long review. I haven't even gotten to the girl-hate between Marisol and Rey's toxic friend Pixie, and how her male friends, Dave and Stitch, manage to be the most wonderful and compelling characters in spite of only appearing in one chapter, sadly. How Marisol speaks almost perfect English, and knows most English swearwords and literary references, yet doesn't know the words "bullshit" and "Frankenstein". She says "bull's shit", even after she's corrected. The illogicality of Gabi, who I like and is a sweet and interesting young character, not knowing that her sister is gay. When she must have known why she was targeted by the gang in El Salvador; why they had to leave their home to begin with. Hell, her brother and the gang leader had clearly stated to Marisol, in Gabi's presence, why they were doing what they were doing. Obviously the true reason is that the gang leader was a pedophile and a pervert (he flirted with Marisol when she was younger, too), and this was merely an excuse. The homophobia in this flashback scene is over the top, but I'm not in a position to judge on how it would actually have gone down in real life, so I won't criticise it.
There might be more niggling things to comment on, but I've written enough for one review.
Bonus positive: The maid characters are nice.
So that's 'The Grief Keeper', from me to you. It held so much promise, so much potential. It could have been fantastic; it should have been fantastic. But unfortunately, its execution left me feeling cold. It is almost heartbreaking.
This is yet another disappointment from this year that I will carry with me, no transmission tech required to relieve me of it. Only writing this honest review may release some of the burden.
I had to have my opinion known. If you like this book, great. I'm happy that it's brought happiness to so many people.
I'm not mad, I'm disappointed.
Final Score: 2/5
Because of this, my contrary review of 'The Grief Keeper' might be controversial, polarizing, and lots are going to hate it.
But it is my opinion, nothing more. And I will try to organise my thoughts as best I can. Feel free to disagree or agree.
Another disclaimer: My views reflect the book and the book alone, not the author, who I'm sure is a lovely person with the best intentions.
What I must say about 'The Grief Keeper' is that its premise is AMAZING. A teenage girl from El Salvador goes through hell and back to cross the American boarder for any chance of a better, safer, easier life, whilst protecting her younger sister who she would die for. Going back may mean a death sentence - both for causing the destruction of a gang that ruined her life, and for being gay. She would do anything to stay in America and provide for her sister, even if that means subjecting herself to an experiment that allows her to take/absorb the grief of others. She becomes a grief keeper, of sorts; for soldiers with PTSD, or any white person's grief and depression, as if she hasn't already suffered enough on her own.
It's a brilliant reflection of America's dehumanizing immigration laws and boarder control, and its terrible treatment of migrants - "To live here, you must do something for us, you must fix our messes and take our shit, and do the jobs no privileged person with a choice wants. You have no right to complain; you're lucky we're giving you this much. You owe us." Its treatment of children absolutely needs to be highlighted as well. Not to mention there's the fact that trauma can't be measured, can't be judged on which is more "important" to focus on depending on the class of the person suffering, nor can it be "moved" just like that; healing doesn't work that way. Psychological "cures" are never so simple in human beings.
So you can imagine how hyped I was to read 'The Grief Keeper'. Such high expectations are warranted to what truly sounds like the best idea in the world. I think it is partly because of this that I originally rated it three stars, since while it has flaws, its heart is in the right place.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realised that the bad outweighs the good in it in my mind. Top it off with my disappointment and you have a very sad, crushed reader in your hands.
Now onto the book itself:
First thing I noticed right away is that the pacing is so fast! We are immediately with Marisol Morales and her sister Gabi in an American asylum (in Pennsylvania, I think?) where she is being interviewed. No explanation on how they got there, or what they've been through. Even the interview barely scratches the surface. And nearly thirty pages later, the grief-keeping plot itself kick starts in New York, after a very short escape attempt from a detention center.
Bits and pieces of the girls' journey are mentioned infrequently throughout, but it's all in small, inconsequential detail, and I felt detached from it. Marisol mentions arriving in Texas and another completely different place once, when she'd started crossing the boarder, and I'm like, "Huh? When did that happen? What happened there? How did they manage to get to these spots? Care to explain?" But no: 'The Grief Keeper' is extremely vague on details and important information that would be needed in order for the reader to feel grounded in its reality and believe in it and the heroine's plight.
I mean, it's great that we are cutting to the chase and the main action directly, and not wasting too much time on infodumps, flashbacks, and excessive worldbuilding. But slowing down a little creates opportunities for atmosphere, investment, authenticity, and understanding the thought processes and emotional states of the characters; so that we care more about what is going on with them.
A supersonic pace, vagueness, ill-advised lack of detail and explanations: These are some of the main issues I have with 'The Grief Keeper'. Speaking of...
Once Marisol is told about the government-funded grief-transfer experiment (called the CTS project), she agrees to it almost immediately with no thoughts and feelings over the various (putting it lightly) implications. The barely-presented assumption is that she would do anything for her little sister to have a normal life in the States. Indeed, the loving sisterly bond is one of the best parts of the book. But I find it hard to stomach that Marisol would blindly agree to be a clear, obvious lab rat - a foreigner and illegal immigrant; meaning, an easy target for government agents - after everything she has been through, after all the distrust she's harboured, even if in the end she's given no choice.
Some scientific methods on how the procedure of transferring grief and PTSD from one person to another are explained (something to do with neurotransmitters and other chemicals in the brain), even if they are not exactly accurate. That's okay, as it is science fiction, and metaphorical in a way that serves the story's political messages.
What is never explained, however, is how Marisol can not only feel the emotions of her "donor", but also gain their memories of their traumatic event. She experiences everything firsthand, which supposedly should go away naturally very soon since the feelings are not attached to her personally, and they mean nothing to her, so in theory the experiment is overall harmless for everyone involved. She keeps the "retaining memories" part quiet at first because she doesn't want to disappoint her superiors with complicated news, and risk the experiment shutting down and her and her sister being deported. Never mind that science is all about the data, the unexpected and unplanned, and adapting to unforeseen developments all the time. It is kind of frustrating, and makes Marisol appear meek and a further tool of the US government.
When the side effect is found out later in the book, it's hardly a footnote - nobody cares, no explanation for the phenomenon is given, and it's not mentioned again. Terrific.
In addition to the pacing and ambiguity issues, before I even get to Marisol's main donor (her first is a soldier who was next to her in a courtyard at lunch, but then he disappears and is never mentioned again; see a pattern here?) and love interest, Rey, first I must write about the character inconsistencies. Marisol can be strong, independent, loud and snarky, every inch the protective older sister in a foreign country, backing down only when she has to. But also, depending on the plot, she's meek, obedient, and quiet when she should be screaming and protesting to the heavens, her self-preservation and esteem at a low and at odds with the girl who risked everything to get herself and her sister where they are now. It doesn't feel like a natural progression, like Marisol is suffering too much to bear in shouldering another girl's grief, and she's become numb, beaten down, depressed. It happens too quickly, unevenly and confusedly to flow well, with her character and the story.
Then there's the people responsible for Marisol's suffering and the CTS project. Dr. Deng I think is meant to be the villain, with his snide, patronising remarks and behaviour, and predatory smiles. But he's not in the story much and he receives no comeuppance whatsoever. We last see him treating a relapsed Marisol without a care in the world at about the third of the way through the book, then he disappears and is never mentioned again.
Indranie Patel is like the voice of reason and the sympathetic mentor to Marisol's case. I think. She really isn't that sympathetic to the girl at all, and in some instances her dialogue is barely distinguishable from Dr. Deng's, patronising and telling Marisol to trust her entirely with no explanation or answers to important questions. Everybody has flaws, and it is beaten into the ground that Indranie is a government employee and therefore morally gray at best. However I can't forgive the inconsistency, as I can't get a hold of just who Indranie is and why I should care about her, as I'm clearly supposed to.
She doesn't care about Marisol, as evidenced when, later on, Marisol, clinically depressed and overwhelmed with Rey's grief (which never went away, big surprise, and nobody gives a damn), in a daze after a fight with Gabi, unconsciously tries to commit suicide. Indranie saves her, which is meant to be the moment we see her as a hero and can trust her, as her calm wall breaks down and she cries with regret and worry. But she spoils it with these lines:
"I did everything I could to ruin your life. But I swear I didn't want you to suffer. I only wanted to keep Rey safe." - Page 237
What?
"I'm not a bad person." - Page 237
Your actions and words speak otherwise. You used and lied to a desperate immigrant girl and her little sister. Because you're in love with the grief-stricken rich white donor's father. You knew exactly what you were doing, when you should have known better.
When Indranie initially came to the detention center, looking for the perfect candidate and lab rat:
"I waited in the hallway. I looked into the dormitories--all those terrified faces, mothers and children, little babies, all crammed into rooms, rows and rows of metal beds, piles of clothes. I wasn't sure I could do it." - Page 239
Then, just when you think she might have a conscience:
"It was nearly twenty minutes before the director told me they couldn't find you, or your sister. I knew it was time for me to leave. I couldn't get mixed up in a scandal of missing immigrant children." - Page 239
She makes it all about her. No further comment is made about the treatment of the immigrants at the detention center, neither by Indranie nor by Marisol. Bizarrely, they don't care. Not enough, anyway.
So the CTS project is skeevy, unethical, and has consequences. What I want to shout to these people is: What the hell did you expect?
But that's not all. Indranie goes on to say how she picked up Marisol and Gabi, "two brown girls", walking from the center, and how it was bingo for her, and for the experiment
"You were this close to killing yourself! You think I can live with that? I can't. I won't. You're going to take that cuff off." - Page 241
That's right. She makes a teenage girl's pain and agony - which she put her in in the first place - and subsequent attempted suicide, all about her. How it would affect her. This is never called out on, so I can't be sure if the author knew what she was doing with the way the above line, and the others, are worded.
Screw you, Indranie Patel. I have no sympathy for you.
At least there was an attempt to make you a three-dimensional character, unlike Dr. Deng.
The one good thing about this chapter is this paragraph:
I turn to look at Indranie. Can she really have been so credula? To believe it would be like magic? Magic is power without consequences. That's why it isn't real. Everything has consequences. - Page 238
Simple. Powerful. Relevant. Effective. One of the best lines.
Finally, I will talk about Rey, the donor. She is Marisol's age, conveniently, and stinking rich, white, and traumatised by the death of her twin brother at a concert, presumably by a terrorist attack. Yeah, it is not stated outright if it was a terrorist attack that caused the explosions, much less who had caused all those deaths and why. For a book this politically-charged, and one delving into how differently people grieve, that is a deplorable narrative choice. Specific details needed in order to understand your plot and characters, as well as logical reasons, are stupid and unnecessary, according to 'The Grief Keeper'.
Anyway, I quite liked Rey and how real she was. Her grief, wanting to keep it to herself despite it killing her, and Marisol's eventual absorption of it, giving her a chance of lightness and happiness, felt natural and heartbreaking. Rey is unstable and unpredictable; highlighting how she copes with grief and how its sudden absence can be affecting her mind. She's numb, not totally there, not totally herself. It's unnatural, what is done to her.
Marisol also lost a brother to violence back in El Salvador, and while for understandable reasons (trust me, this is something to savour in this book) she no longer cares for him and that he's gone, it is something she shares in common with Rey. I cared about the two devastated girls' blossoming relationship... at first.
When Rey finds out about how the grief-transmutation is affecting Marisol (again, what did anyone expect?! Why didn't Rey suspect anything before? Marisol has obviously been depressed), she is beyond angry. Much more than Marisol, the victim, is. The rich American girl confronts Indranie. After Indranie explains how her own immigrant parents had to take the menial jobs they could to survive and live in the US, Rey says:
"Do not fucking compare this with cleaning bathrooms and being a nanny. This could have killed Marisol." - Page 276
Here it gets very uncomfortable. In context, Rey has every right to be mad at these adults who are dictating her life and feelings, and Marisol's (Rey's father is present, and for some reason he doesn't volunteer for the CTS project himself, despite his own grief at losing his son). But we also have a rich American white girl undermining the experiences of brown-skinned immigrants. While the immigrants themselves remain meek and quiet about it. The subtext is unmistakable, even if unintentional and misguided. The plot progression has forced this to happen.
Rey is angry for the benefit of Marisol, her lover. But Marisol herself hardly says a word in her own defense. She lets a white person do it for her. She is so self-pitying she doesn't care about herself anymore, and it reads as pathetic. Read this exchange:
'"You aren't an illegal. You are a person. A girl." [...] "You have a right to live and love. And to not be afraid."
"I don't," I say. "No one has that right."' - Page 278
Uh... okay. Care to elaborate on that? No?
And what Rey is doing here is basically whitesplaining. Or Americansplaining, or USsplaining, whatever you want to call it. She's whitesplaining to a poor immigrant girl about how important she is and that she matters, when the immigrant wouldn't be able to figure that out on her own, for whatever reason. Heck, Rey is the one to coin the term "grief keeper". It is one of Rey's white friends who'd compared Marisol to a lab rat in the first place; it apparently didn't cross our heroine's mind until then. But then it's glossed over and barely explored further.
Marisol is given extremely little agency and assertion, not to mention self-awareness, in her own story. For someone who has gone through so much shit, she is rather too ignorant, gullible, naive, and eager to be used.
Would Rey be so caring and sympathetic if she and Marisol weren't in love, I wonder? There is a huge class and privilege divide between them, and it's an elephant in the room that I can't shake off after this development.
At that, the experiment is over (for them, but I seriously doubt it will not continue to be used on someone else, performed by the suspect Dr. Deng, but that is yet another detail that isn't explored further and is dropped before any implications can even manifest), and all is undeservedly forgiven.
The last big issue I want to talk about is the ending. Or the lack of one. There is no climax; only Marisol finding her few-hours-missing sister at a party, mirroring how she'd sworn to protect Gabi after she was practically kidnapped and almost raped by a gang leader in El Salvador. Nothing happens at the party, however, and Marisol grabs Gabi and...
Final chapter, which is four pages long, where Marisol is seeking asylum once again. In this interview she tells the truth, about why she left her home country as a refugee. Because of the threats made against her due to her sexual orientation, and against her sister who was almost a victim of corrective rape so she wouldn't turn out like Marisol. Then Marisol leaves and rides into the sunset with Rey and...
That's it. End of book. No insights. No reflection on the nature of grief and that it can't be measured. No epiphany on the limitless layers - micro and macro - of human suffering and prejudice. No bookends - what happens now? Do the sisters live with Rey? Where's Gabi? Where's Dr. Deng? What about Marisol's mother, who is still in El Salvador and is waiting to be reunited with her daughters? What about Mrs. Rosen, who was supposed to have been the girls' guardian in the US, but who had died when they arrived? Marisol had kept the death a secret from Gabi until the middle of the story, and when it's out, it turns into a nonissue. One scarcely explored.
It goes nowhere. Just like nearly every issue presented.
'The Grief Keeper' ends as it begins: Vague, fast, with very little care for necessary details.
No wonder it's only 306 pages long. For a book that should have been heavy.
There isn't a cliffhanger, and I'm not sure about a sequel being planned. There is no suggestion of one.
Wow this is a long review. I haven't even gotten to the girl-hate between Marisol and Rey's toxic friend Pixie, and how her male friends, Dave and Stitch, manage to be the most wonderful and compelling characters in spite of only appearing in one chapter, sadly. How Marisol speaks almost perfect English, and knows most English swearwords and literary references, yet doesn't know the words "bullshit" and "Frankenstein". She says "bull's shit", even after she's corrected. The illogicality of Gabi, who I like and is a sweet and interesting young character, not knowing that her sister is gay. When she must have known why she was targeted by the gang in El Salvador; why they had to leave their home to begin with. Hell, her brother and the gang leader had clearly stated to Marisol, in Gabi's presence, why they were doing what they were doing. Obviously the true reason is that the gang leader was a pedophile and a pervert (he flirted with Marisol when she was younger, too), and this was merely an excuse. The homophobia in this flashback scene is over the top, but I'm not in a position to judge on how it would actually have gone down in real life, so I won't criticise it.
There might be more niggling things to comment on, but I've written enough for one review.
Bonus positive: The maid characters are nice.
So that's 'The Grief Keeper', from me to you. It held so much promise, so much potential. It could have been fantastic; it should have been fantastic. But unfortunately, its execution left me feeling cold. It is almost heartbreaking.
This is yet another disappointment from this year that I will carry with me, no transmission tech required to relieve me of it. Only writing this honest review may release some of the burden.
I had to have my opinion known. If you like this book, great. I'm happy that it's brought happiness to so many people.
I'm not mad, I'm disappointed.
Final Score: 2/5
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 18, 2019
The Grief Keeper is a contemporary story with sci-fi aspects following Marisol, a Salvadorian lesbian who fled her country for her life, together with her younger sister Gabi. To legally stay in the US, she is forced to take part in a program in which she'll have to bear the weight of someone else's grief, all of this while dealing with her own trauma.
I feel weird about calling this a sci-fi book. It is one, because it features technology that doesn't exist in our reality, and it's not like sci-fi isn't made for commenting on current, relevant issues. It's just that I'm used to having more layers of unreality between a sci-fi book's reality and our own. What makes The Grief Keeper so heart-wrenching is knowing that if this technology did exist, this is exactly what would happen: less privileged people would have to bear the weight of more privileged people's trauma.
There is a part of this book in which a character says that if this program is successful, it will “ease a lot of suffering.” Marisol's well-being is barely considered, and if it is, it's just to ensure that she still exists to protect the other subject, the privileged white American Rey, from her depression.
It's a painful read, a necessary one, and yet it's so hopeful. This is not a tragedy, even though some of the characters are forced to endure things no one should have to. The circumstances are horrible, but the relationships between the characters are the light in the darkness for them. Marisol and Gabi's sibling bond was so well-written and layered: Marisol wants to protect her sister and her sister is what she is surviving for; Gabi loves Marisol but also wants to break free, to rebel like someone on the cusp of teenagehood would.
I also loved the romance. I didn't know if I would, because Marisol is falling in love with the other subject, Rey, the girl whose trauma she has to re-experience over and over. This could have turned ugly really easily, and it didn't. We see this connection build slowly, help Marisol with her internalized self-loathing about being a lesbian, help Rey in many ways the technology she didn't consent to either could have never, and it's beautiful. Their scenes in the last 30% of the book were everything.
There were so many ways this could have gone wrong. It could have been a "romance cures mental illness" story, and it wasn't; it could have had an ugly power dynamic and it didn't. There was only one thing I didn't like, only one thing in the whole book - this book didn't shy away from psychiatric medications' side effects like many YA books dealing with mental illness do, but it does somewhat fall in the opposite cliché with one quote: medication turns you into a zombie. Marisol says that the medication she's taking is working as intended, which means that she is still anxious and depressed, but has no will. While it could be that this is a sci-fi medication meant to do exactly that, the book says that Rey is taking SSRIs, and implies that her and Marisol are taking the same pills. That's not how antidepressants work. Maybe some people experience this as a side effect and the book meant to show that, while also implying Marisol doesn't know she's experiencing side effects? I don't know. I really would have liked more clarification about this.
One of the things that meant a lot to me was how The Grief Keeper talked about bilingualism. The main character is a Spanish native speaker, and English is her second language. Across different first languages, it was interesting to see how our feelings about English were similar, and for once, it's so great to see a main character who has gone through the same things I do with language: struggling with idioms, with figures of speech; feeling like she has to be perfect because anything less than perfection in an ESL speaker is a sign of ignorance to monolingual speakers who don't know a word of your language; the way we both have a relationship with language that people who don't have to be fluent into two languages can't understand. The amount of Spanish in this book, and the way it isn't necessarily translated every single time, made me happy.
Another thing I loved was how Marisol and Rey connected over a (fictional) TV show, and how their understanding of their own queerness was also shaped by that show. I think that fandom has an important place in many queer people's journey of self-discovery in a way that goes deeper than pop culture references built into a story to be relatable, and I love when books reflect that.
I was also surprised by several things: a slight twist in the ending I won't talk about for obvious reasons, and the character of Indranie. She is an Indian-American woman, and I thought that what this book did with her and the way she is complicit in Marisol's suffering and yet not portrayed as a fully bad person was such an interesting direction to take.
As this book deals with a lot of heavy themes both in the present timeline and (especially) in the flashbacks, I'm going to post my list of content warnings here, under a spoiler tag because they're potentially spoiler-y. I don't think they are and I still recommend reading them, but to be sure:
I feel weird about calling this a sci-fi book. It is one, because it features technology that doesn't exist in our reality, and it's not like sci-fi isn't made for commenting on current, relevant issues. It's just that I'm used to having more layers of unreality between a sci-fi book's reality and our own. What makes The Grief Keeper so heart-wrenching is knowing that if this technology did exist, this is exactly what would happen: less privileged people would have to bear the weight of more privileged people's trauma.
There is a part of this book in which a character says that if this program is successful, it will “ease a lot of suffering.” Marisol's well-being is barely considered, and if it is, it's just to ensure that she still exists to protect the other subject, the privileged white American Rey, from her depression.
It's a painful read, a necessary one, and yet it's so hopeful. This is not a tragedy, even though some of the characters are forced to endure things no one should have to. The circumstances are horrible, but the relationships between the characters are the light in the darkness for them. Marisol and Gabi's sibling bond was so well-written and layered: Marisol wants to protect her sister and her sister is what she is surviving for; Gabi loves Marisol but also wants to break free, to rebel like someone on the cusp of teenagehood would.
I also loved the romance. I didn't know if I would, because Marisol is falling in love with the other subject, Rey, the girl whose trauma she has to re-experience over and over. This could have turned ugly really easily, and it didn't. We see this connection build slowly, help Marisol with her internalized self-loathing about being a lesbian, help Rey in many ways the technology she didn't consent to either could have never, and it's beautiful. Their scenes in the last 30% of the book were everything.
There were so many ways this could have gone wrong. It could have been a "romance cures mental illness" story, and it wasn't; it could have had an ugly power dynamic and it didn't. There was only one thing I didn't like, only one thing in the whole book - this book didn't shy away from psychiatric medications' side effects like many YA books dealing with mental illness do, but it does somewhat fall in the opposite cliché with one quote: medication turns you into a zombie. Marisol says that the medication she's taking is working as intended, which means that she is still anxious and depressed, but has no will. While it could be that this is a sci-fi medication meant to do exactly that, the book says that Rey is taking SSRIs, and implies that her and Marisol are taking the same pills. That's not how antidepressants work. Maybe some people experience this as a side effect and the book meant to show that, while also implying Marisol doesn't know she's experiencing side effects? I don't know. I really would have liked more clarification about this.
One of the things that meant a lot to me was how The Grief Keeper talked about bilingualism. The main character is a Spanish native speaker, and English is her second language. Across different first languages, it was interesting to see how our feelings about English were similar, and for once, it's so great to see a main character who has gone through the same things I do with language: struggling with idioms, with figures of speech; feeling like she has to be perfect because anything less than perfection in an ESL speaker is a sign of ignorance to monolingual speakers who don't know a word of your language; the way we both have a relationship with language that people who don't have to be fluent into two languages can't understand. The amount of Spanish in this book, and the way it isn't necessarily translated every single time, made me happy.
Another thing I loved was how Marisol and Rey connected over a (fictional) TV show, and how their understanding of their own queerness was also shaped by that show. I think that fandom has an important place in many queer people's journey of self-discovery in a way that goes deeper than pop culture references built into a story to be relatable, and I love when books reflect that.
I was also surprised by several things: a slight twist in the ending I won't talk about for obvious reasons, and the character of Indranie. She is an Indian-American woman, and I thought that what this book did with her and the way she is complicit in Marisol's suffering and yet not portrayed as a fully bad person was such an interesting direction to take.
As this book deals with a lot of heavy themes both in the present timeline and (especially) in the flashbacks, I'm going to post my list of content warnings here, under a spoiler tag because they're potentially spoiler-y. I don't think they are and I still recommend reading them, but to be sure:
March 14, 2017
being a crit partner has its benefits...you NEED this book in your life, trust me!
May 23, 2019
I can already say that this will be on my list as one of my top and most impactful reads of the year (and it’s only May). I’ve not read too many books lately that can bring me to shed both happy and sad tears, as well as make me drop my jaw, and cause me to put the book down for moments so I could collect my thoughts. And although the title would suggest that ‘The Grief Keeper’ is filled with sadness, it also brings with it a bright message of love and hope.
The novel opens with seventeen-year old Marisol being interviewed in a federal border detention center, having just crossed into the U.S., after fleeing El Salvador with her younger sister Gabi, afraid for their lives after the death of their brother Pablo. She has dreamed for years for a life in the States, perfecting her English, and getting lost in the imaginary world of her favorite TV show ‘Cedar Hollow.’ When it looks like her asylum request will be denied, and a new and curious opportunity to have it granted arises, Marisol will do just about anything for her and her sister to make that happen. And that’s by becoming a ‘grief keeper.’
Debut author Alexandra Villasante has written an expertly crafted novel about the complexities of immigration, grief, sexual orientation, PTSD, depression, and, new love. There are even more nuanced topics woven in such as attitudes towards immigrants (legal and otherwise) being hired to do menial jobs in this country, our political climate, and how the LGBTQ community suffers in other countries (ie which would cause a young girl like Marisol to flee her home).
This story gives so many deep, complex topics to talk and think about but at the core there is this beautiful story about Marisol and Rey (grieving her own brother) who are discovering their relationship with each other, including Marisol who would never have been allowed to explore this part of her back in the country she has fled. Persecution of LGBTQ youth and ‘conversion by rape’ is brought into the spotlight and from this story of family and migration, I was enlightened and educated.
This is a novel about connections as well as grief, and Villasante sheds light on PTSD, and gives new meaning to the idea of taking someone else’s pain away so they don’t have to suffer. There are serious moral and ethical questions to the procedure that’s used so that Marisol will absorb Rey’s grief and pain (this actually brings quite a futuristic aspect to a very realistic story, which I really liked) and shows the extent that Marisol will go to gain entry to the U.S., and it’s heartbreaking.
I read this book and I felt so many different emotions, and the very fact that it’s able to envelope immigration criticism, discussion on sexual identity, loss, classism, plus a loving sister relationship, AND a sci-fi twist, make it a VERY special book. I think it belongs on every school and YA library shelf everywhere and I hope many people will pick it up, even if it’s initially because of the insanely gorgeous cover (thanks to Kaethe Butcher and Kelley Brady), and that they end up holding it close to their hearts.
*Trigger warnings/mentions: sexual assault, suicidal ideation, violence, bombing, PTSD
The novel opens with seventeen-year old Marisol being interviewed in a federal border detention center, having just crossed into the U.S., after fleeing El Salvador with her younger sister Gabi, afraid for their lives after the death of their brother Pablo. She has dreamed for years for a life in the States, perfecting her English, and getting lost in the imaginary world of her favorite TV show ‘Cedar Hollow.’ When it looks like her asylum request will be denied, and a new and curious opportunity to have it granted arises, Marisol will do just about anything for her and her sister to make that happen. And that’s by becoming a ‘grief keeper.’
Debut author Alexandra Villasante has written an expertly crafted novel about the complexities of immigration, grief, sexual orientation, PTSD, depression, and, new love. There are even more nuanced topics woven in such as attitudes towards immigrants (legal and otherwise) being hired to do menial jobs in this country, our political climate, and how the LGBTQ community suffers in other countries (ie which would cause a young girl like Marisol to flee her home).
This story gives so many deep, complex topics to talk and think about but at the core there is this beautiful story about Marisol and Rey (grieving her own brother) who are discovering their relationship with each other, including Marisol who would never have been allowed to explore this part of her back in the country she has fled. Persecution of LGBTQ youth and ‘conversion by rape’ is brought into the spotlight and from this story of family and migration, I was enlightened and educated.
This is a novel about connections as well as grief, and Villasante sheds light on PTSD, and gives new meaning to the idea of taking someone else’s pain away so they don’t have to suffer. There are serious moral and ethical questions to the procedure that’s used so that Marisol will absorb Rey’s grief and pain (this actually brings quite a futuristic aspect to a very realistic story, which I really liked) and shows the extent that Marisol will go to gain entry to the U.S., and it’s heartbreaking.
I read this book and I felt so many different emotions, and the very fact that it’s able to envelope immigration criticism, discussion on sexual identity, loss, classism, plus a loving sister relationship, AND a sci-fi twist, make it a VERY special book. I think it belongs on every school and YA library shelf everywhere and I hope many people will pick it up, even if it’s initially because of the insanely gorgeous cover (thanks to Kaethe Butcher and Kelley Brady), and that they end up holding it close to their hearts.
*Trigger warnings/mentions: sexual assault, suicidal ideation, violence, bombing, PTSD
February 19, 2025
Beautiful writing and a beautiful story.
I loved so many things about this book. The exploration of how immigrants are treated as expendable in the eyes of the US government. Marisol's protective and loving relationship with her younger sister. And the heartwarming lesbian romance. It's my favorite thing in books when lesbian love is depicted as the comforting light in an otherwise dark situation. An underrated and powerful novel exploring important topics of our time.
I loved so many things about this book. The exploration of how immigrants are treated as expendable in the eyes of the US government. Marisol's protective and loving relationship with her younger sister. And the heartwarming lesbian romance. It's my favorite thing in books when lesbian love is depicted as the comforting light in an otherwise dark situation. An underrated and powerful novel exploring important topics of our time.
May 29, 2020
This is such a beautiful and emotional book, and I think everyone should probably read it.
November 1, 2019
4.5 stars. While I thought the book's resolution was a little too positive, considering the anti-immigration sentiment that's so prevalent now, I thought so much of this book was wonderful.
Marisol and her younger sister Gabby are asylum seekers from El Salvador, staying in a detention centre in the US. Marisol feels very protective of her much more lighthearted sister, and is carrying plenty of grief and worry about their current situation, as well as the situation they're running from. Seizing an opportunity one day, Marisol and Gabby escape from the centre.
They're picked up by a woman, Indrani, who gives Marisol a choice: participate in a study of some new technology and maybe they'll be granted asylum. Marisol agrees to the test, knowing that this isn't really a choice. The tech is to be used to help veterans suffering from PTSD; the sufferer and the non-sufferer both wear cuffs (the non-sufferer also has an implant) and the sufferer sends their pain and grief and fear to the non-sufferer.
Instead of who she thinks she'll be helping, Marisol and Gabby are taken to the home of a young, suicidal woman, with whom Marisol is urged to connect. The two, after a few false starts, begin speaking, and find a common interest in an old Canadian tv series. Eventually Marisol even convinces Ray to wear the cuff corresponding to her own, and Marisol begins her job of assisting Rey deal with her grief and suicidal thoughts by channeling them to her brain.
Author Alexandra Villasante brings us into the mind of Marisol; she's a resourceful young woman, but is also nursing deep pain from some unexplained experiences in El Salvador. She understands the bind she and her sister are in and makes decisions, knowing fully well that she doesn't have any good options. It's impossible not to be aware that Indrani, a child of immigrants, is complicit in the Marisol's abuse when Indrani coerces Marisol into agreeing to participate in the trial of the new, untested technology. Additionally, Villasante explores a number of other situations through the relationships in the story: income inequality, homophobia, grief, identity, rape, and mental health. At its heart, though, this is a lovely story of Marisol and her sister, and of Marisol and Rey.
Marisol and her younger sister Gabby are asylum seekers from El Salvador, staying in a detention centre in the US. Marisol feels very protective of her much more lighthearted sister, and is carrying plenty of grief and worry about their current situation, as well as the situation they're running from. Seizing an opportunity one day, Marisol and Gabby escape from the centre.
They're picked up by a woman, Indrani, who gives Marisol a choice: participate in a study of some new technology and maybe they'll be granted asylum. Marisol agrees to the test, knowing that this isn't really a choice. The tech is to be used to help veterans suffering from PTSD; the sufferer and the non-sufferer both wear cuffs (the non-sufferer also has an implant) and the sufferer sends their pain and grief and fear to the non-sufferer.
Instead of who she thinks she'll be helping, Marisol and Gabby are taken to the home of a young, suicidal woman, with whom Marisol is urged to connect. The two, after a few false starts, begin speaking, and find a common interest in an old Canadian tv series. Eventually Marisol even convinces Ray to wear the cuff corresponding to her own, and Marisol begins her job of assisting Rey deal with her grief and suicidal thoughts by channeling them to her brain.
Author Alexandra Villasante brings us into the mind of Marisol; she's a resourceful young woman, but is also nursing deep pain from some unexplained experiences in El Salvador. She understands the bind she and her sister are in and makes decisions, knowing fully well that she doesn't have any good options. It's impossible not to be aware that Indrani, a child of immigrants, is complicit in the Marisol's abuse when Indrani coerces Marisol into agreeing to participate in the trial of the new, untested technology. Additionally, Villasante explores a number of other situations through the relationships in the story: income inequality, homophobia, grief, identity, rape, and mental health. At its heart, though, this is a lovely story of Marisol and her sister, and of Marisol and Rey.
June 21, 2019
this book really hit home, i can't even put into words how much i loved it.
the grief keeper shows the crude reality of being an immigrant, of how hard it is to leave the country you grew up in because you were in danger there. it shows the difficulty of thinking in both english and spanish (it was really amazing to see all those spanish words in an english book) and it deals with grief, depression, ptsd and homophobia. it was hard for me to read but totally worth it.
the overall plot was very original and the relationship between marisol and her little sister gabi was beautiful. also the romance of the book was incredibly well developed and heartwarming (and gay, i couldn't ask for more).
in conclusion, this book deserves more attention and everyone should go read it !!! you won't regret it.
p.s. a moment of appreciation for that cover, i'm in love
the grief keeper shows the crude reality of being an immigrant, of how hard it is to leave the country you grew up in because you were in danger there. it shows the difficulty of thinking in both english and spanish (it was really amazing to see all those spanish words in an english book) and it deals with grief, depression, ptsd and homophobia. it was hard for me to read but totally worth it.
the overall plot was very original and the relationship between marisol and her little sister gabi was beautiful. also the romance of the book was incredibly well developed and heartwarming (and gay, i couldn't ask for more).
in conclusion, this book deserves more attention and everyone should go read it !!! you won't regret it.
p.s. a moment of appreciation for that cover, i'm in love
July 3, 2019
The number of emotions this book made me feel is off the charts.
1. Angry. Would the US subject immigrants seeking asylum to experimental tests that could harm and re-traumatize them? Yes, this could be a thing.
2. Relieved. So happy Marisol found Rey.
3. Angry. Angry that we live in a world where this is so close to reality. We can’t let the concentration camps continue.
1. Angry. Would the US subject immigrants seeking asylum to experimental tests that could harm and re-traumatize them? Yes, this could be a thing.
2. Relieved. So happy Marisol found Rey.
3. Angry. Angry that we live in a world where this is so close to reality. We can’t let the concentration camps continue.
July 20, 2018
Of course I didn't read the final - with a real cover, and with the fantastic new book smell, but I'm dying to! A fantastic and refreshingly new tale that needs to be told today more than ever.
May 20, 2022
Boosting this December 2019 review because this book is still so unique and essential and impeccable that I need more people to read it. Can we make this a sapphic sleeper hit?
Reread coming soon probably.
Original Review:
Um. Wow.
Book internet is SLEEPING on this book! The Grief Keeper deserves all the hype in the world, and I don't understand how it doesn't have it. (I mean, just look at that cover!) I hope my review can convince you to read this book, but if we're being honest, it's just a mess of flailing right now.
The overarching beauty of this book is that it explores themes I've never exactly seen in a novel before. Namely, (somewhat of a spoiler but it's good to know) the unique struggles of LGBT+ undocumented immigrants and the reality of homophobic violence. There's also the more obvious theme that grief always has to go somewhere; you can't bury it down and you can't push it off onto someone else. The Grief Keeper is the sort of book that will make your heart ache.
I love the somewhat nonlinear structure, starting near the middle of the narrative when Marisol is in the detention center, and having flashbacks to her life before that point throughout the book to slowly reveal her story. This was definitely a book I could not stop reading, and I think it was partly due to that.
It is a pretty dark story, as you can probably guess based on the content warnings below, but there's a lot of light too. Just when the plot nears rock bottom, it starts to get better again. When I hit that point, I distinctly remember thinking she stopped it just before it might have become too much to handle.
"Masterful" is a word I've thought about using a lot in this review. This does not read like a debut novel. It feels like every sentence is carefully thought out- and for that matter, many of those sentences are truly beautiful. At times I daresay I got Anna-Marie McLemore vibes from this. The characters are masterfully flawed and complex; the plot is masterfully developed, somehow keeping a contemporary feel the entire time; and THAT COVER is masterfully done too.
I look forward to Alexandra Villasante's next novel, and I wholeheartedly recommend you read this book for an important American narrative, an original and relevant speculative fiction, or even just a lovely sapphic romance.
CWs: attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, depression, homophobia, xenophobia, homophobic slurs in both English and Spanish, threat of rape, medical malpractice, pharmaceutical drugs, detention center
Reread coming soon probably.
Original Review:
Um. Wow.
Book internet is SLEEPING on this book! The Grief Keeper deserves all the hype in the world, and I don't understand how it doesn't have it. (I mean, just look at that cover!) I hope my review can convince you to read this book, but if we're being honest, it's just a mess of flailing right now.
The overarching beauty of this book is that it explores themes I've never exactly seen in a novel before. Namely, (somewhat of a spoiler but it's good to know) the unique struggles of LGBT+ undocumented immigrants and the reality of homophobic violence. There's also the more obvious theme that grief always has to go somewhere; you can't bury it down and you can't push it off onto someone else. The Grief Keeper is the sort of book that will make your heart ache.
I love the somewhat nonlinear structure, starting near the middle of the narrative when Marisol is in the detention center, and having flashbacks to her life before that point throughout the book to slowly reveal her story. This was definitely a book I could not stop reading, and I think it was partly due to that.
It is a pretty dark story, as you can probably guess based on the content warnings below, but there's a lot of light too. Just when the plot nears rock bottom, it starts to get better again. When I hit that point, I distinctly remember thinking she stopped it just before it might have become too much to handle.
"Masterful" is a word I've thought about using a lot in this review. This does not read like a debut novel. It feels like every sentence is carefully thought out- and for that matter, many of those sentences are truly beautiful. At times I daresay I got Anna-Marie McLemore vibes from this. The characters are masterfully flawed and complex; the plot is masterfully developed, somehow keeping a contemporary feel the entire time; and THAT COVER is masterfully done too.
I look forward to Alexandra Villasante's next novel, and I wholeheartedly recommend you read this book for an important American narrative, an original and relevant speculative fiction, or even just a lovely sapphic romance.
CWs: attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, depression, homophobia, xenophobia, homophobic slurs in both English and Spanish, threat of rape, medical malpractice, pharmaceutical drugs, detention center
September 20, 2019
El mundo se abre, and you can see everything you’ve ever wanted—so near at hand, you can almost touch it. The wheel spins, or the cards turn over, and then every possibility you imagine transforms, like magic, into one reality.
At the heart of this story, is the relationship between the protagonist 17 year old Marisol and her younger sister Gabi as they risk it all and flee from the violence in El Salvador. I loved how Villasante explored the thought processes of an immigrant suffering from deep pain and trauma in both the past and present. The novel opens with an interrogation at a US detention center that reminded me of Tell Me How It Ends: An Essay in Forty Questions as the experiences of children seeking asylum are often far too similar and traumatic for their language skills to convey.
Soon the speculative fiction element of medical experimentation was introduced and utilized to explain the sacrifices that immigrants make when they carry a heavy burden and responsibility to their families. Marisol is very resourceful, compassionate, and self-less in her approach to this situation. I thought so much of these discussions were well written and fast paced with some dam good commentary on immigration politics and mental health.
The relationship between Marisol and Rey takes center stage in the latter part of the novel as their connection intensifies and the experiment progresses. All of these heavy themes were balanced with light hearted moments of hope between Marisol & Rey and Marisol & Gabi. Those moments were necessary with such compelling depictions of depression like this:
A heaviness sits under my skin, above my bones—an invisible, smothering blanket. Pavor, angustia, pánico, a collection of heavy, gut-churning feelings. I am drowning.
Upon finishing this book, I initially thought that the ending was abrupt and the romance was too much of the central focus. However, the nuance of such complex issues of immigration, grief, and queer identity are handled with such care. That's why I would recommend this book.
CW: PTSD, suicide & suicidal thoughts, homophobia, sexual assault, depression, death of a sibling.
November 27, 2024
This was just so so beautiful.
March 5, 2021
(4.5)
this!! book!! this was a super heavy read and largely dealt with subjects like ptsd, homophobia, grief and a lot of other hard hitting subjects but it did it really beautifully
the writing was really simple and at the same time just read so beautifully??? sometimes books like this remind me that simplistic writing can actually!! work better than something more complex and flowery
i found the plot really interesting and it absolutely isn’t something i haven’t read before and i loved the way it dealt with the reality of being an immigrant
a large focus of this was sibling relationships which!! yes! i loved marisol’s relationship with her sister it was SO gorgeously written and i like how it often took the focus of the book rather than the romance (though the romance? GORGEOUS and very gay)
my brand is kind of sad sapphic books so like . how had i not read this until now????
(also this book has one of my favourite covers EVER my copy is just going to stay face out in my shelf for the foreseeable future because it is SO PRETTY!!!)
this!! book!! this was a super heavy read and largely dealt with subjects like ptsd, homophobia, grief and a lot of other hard hitting subjects but it did it really beautifully
the writing was really simple and at the same time just read so beautifully??? sometimes books like this remind me that simplistic writing can actually!! work better than something more complex and flowery
i found the plot really interesting and it absolutely isn’t something i haven’t read before and i loved the way it dealt with the reality of being an immigrant
a large focus of this was sibling relationships which!! yes! i loved marisol’s relationship with her sister it was SO gorgeously written and i like how it often took the focus of the book rather than the romance (though the romance? GORGEOUS and very gay)
my brand is kind of sad sapphic books so like . how had i not read this until now????
(also this book has one of my favourite covers EVER my copy is just going to stay face out in my shelf for the foreseeable future because it is SO PRETTY!!!)
definitive-tbr
December 30, 2018|| F/F Romance
|| Immigration criticism
|| PTSD experiment
|| Immigration criticism
|| PTSD experiment
LIST & POSTS I'VE MENTIONED THIS BOOK IN:
16 Most Anticipated LGBTQIA Novels To Be Released in 2019
Ten 2019 YA Debut Novels You Need To Add To Your TBR Right Away!
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June 1, 2019A teen girl and her younger sister are seeking asylum in the US from El Salvador, where their lives are at great risk for numerous reasons . When they make it across the border and are held in a detention facility, Marisol's interview goes less well than she suspects and she worries her request will be denied. She uses a break in attention by the guards to run with her sister, where she's picked up by what seems like a nice woman who offers to help her get to New York, where she's to meet a friend of the family who wants to help them.
The woman, however, informs her she has an offer: she's actually a government employee and there's a new procedure that needs a human test subject. The procedure will remove the traumas from someone suffering and give them to an otherwise healthy individual. Marisol can be the participant, in exchange for her asylum request. Fearing deportation, she agrees.
There is so much in this tightly written book about love, family, immigration, and race, but the thing that really struck me was what it dove into about our understanding of grief. For Rey, the white girl struggling with grief who is to be the "giver" of grief to Marisol, grief leads to deep depression and PTSD; the assumption by the wealthy family she's part of, as well as the government and scientists, is that grief can just disappear. That it can be poured into someone "less worthy" to make someone feel better. The "less worthy," of course, being a brown girl desperate for freedom. It's an incredible premise and one that isn't far fetched, despite seeming like it. More, well, grief is a feeling. It's an experience. And we ALL have it in some capacity. It can't be shoved away. It has to be felt and experienced. It demands attention because it's a big deal. Here, though, teen girls aren't allowed to have it. More specifically, white teen girls from wealthy families.
Marisol, though, can. And she does. And it's here when we discover how deeply flawed this program is.
There is a queer romance here that's lovely and powerful, and the relationship between Marisol and Gabi, her little sister, is fabulous. I love Marisol's passion for language and learning new languages, as well as how she learns about things like idioms in English. It's charming without ever being demeaning.
Fear is a driver for Marisol, and that shines through in her complicity with the experiment . . . as well as why she hides a huge part of herself until she's finally able to share it.
The woman, however, informs her she has an offer: she's actually a government employee and there's a new procedure that needs a human test subject. The procedure will remove the traumas from someone suffering and give them to an otherwise healthy individual. Marisol can be the participant, in exchange for her asylum request. Fearing deportation, she agrees.
There is so much in this tightly written book about love, family, immigration, and race, but the thing that really struck me was what it dove into about our understanding of grief. For Rey, the white girl struggling with grief who is to be the "giver" of grief to Marisol, grief leads to deep depression and PTSD; the assumption by the wealthy family she's part of, as well as the government and scientists, is that grief can just disappear. That it can be poured into someone "less worthy" to make someone feel better. The "less worthy," of course, being a brown girl desperate for freedom. It's an incredible premise and one that isn't far fetched, despite seeming like it. More, well, grief is a feeling. It's an experience. And we ALL have it in some capacity. It can't be shoved away. It has to be felt and experienced. It demands attention because it's a big deal. Here, though, teen girls aren't allowed to have it. More specifically, white teen girls from wealthy families.
Marisol, though, can. And she does. And it's here when we discover how deeply flawed this program is.
There is a queer romance here that's lovely and powerful, and the relationship between Marisol and Gabi, her little sister, is fabulous. I love Marisol's passion for language and learning new languages, as well as how she learns about things like idioms in English. It's charming without ever being demeaning.
Fear is a driver for Marisol, and that shines through in her complicity with the experiment . . . as well as why she hides a huge part of herself until she's finally able to share it.
January 21, 2019
still formulating all my thoughts but this is exactly the kind of YA i want to see in the world right now. topical, thought-provoking, written with careful attention to and clear love for language, and just overall beautifully done.
August 15, 2019
You had me at Salvadorian! I’m Salvadorian and this synopsis made my jaw DROP! The cover is gorgeous and I know this book will be heartbreakingly beautiful too. YES FOR THE LATINX REP!!
July 18, 2019
This book was very well-written, with an interesting storyline that deals with many issues: immigration law, homophobia, depression, etc. All of them were handled with care. I can't forget to mention the relationship between the two sisters: Marisol and Gaby.
June 17, 2019
Marisol and her younger sister Gabi have fled El Salvador and are seeking asylum in the US. When their request isn’t granted Marisol is offered a different way for them to stay in the country legally, become a test subject in a scientific experiment. A device has been created to help people with PTSD deal with their grief and trauma by transmitting their grief into a different person. Marisol now has to deal with taking on the grief of another young girl while also dealing with her own personal trauma that led her to leave El Salvador in the first place.
I really like stories that are mostly contemporary but also have a very light fantasy or sci fi element. This book fits into that because the technology they’ve created to transmit grief from one person to another doesn’t exist, but the rest of the story is just set in regular modern day. Normally in stories like this I prefer for the sci fi elements to not be overly explained, I think it’s more interesting to just use it in the story rather than try to make it seem as real as possible. So in the beginning of this book I hated how they spent so much time with doctors and scientists explaining the fake science to Marisol about how this device would function and different neurotransmitters, etc. I just thought the “how it’s going to work” was nowhere near as interesting as the “how will taking on somebody else’s grief impact Marisol.”
So the first 35% of the book wasn’t that interesting to me, but once Marisol meets Rey, the girl she’s going to be taking the grief from, the story REALLY picked up. This book delved really deep into grief and trauma and how it’s important to experience it and work through it. I thought that this technology was an interesting way to bring up conversations of how different people experience emotions and trauma. I enjoyed seeing how Rey and Marisol were able to help one another and form a friendship that eventually turns into something more.
This book covers a lot of important topics in addition to grief and PTSD. Immigration and the tendency to treat immigrants as “less than” or to dehumanize them was covered heavily. Sexuality, homophobia, depression, suicidal thoughts, and sexual assault are also brought up as well. I’d highly recommend this book. Even though I felt like the beginning wasn’t that strong, the rest of the book makes up for the slow start.
I really like stories that are mostly contemporary but also have a very light fantasy or sci fi element. This book fits into that because the technology they’ve created to transmit grief from one person to another doesn’t exist, but the rest of the story is just set in regular modern day. Normally in stories like this I prefer for the sci fi elements to not be overly explained, I think it’s more interesting to just use it in the story rather than try to make it seem as real as possible. So in the beginning of this book I hated how they spent so much time with doctors and scientists explaining the fake science to Marisol about how this device would function and different neurotransmitters, etc. I just thought the “how it’s going to work” was nowhere near as interesting as the “how will taking on somebody else’s grief impact Marisol.”
So the first 35% of the book wasn’t that interesting to me, but once Marisol meets Rey, the girl she’s going to be taking the grief from, the story REALLY picked up. This book delved really deep into grief and trauma and how it’s important to experience it and work through it. I thought that this technology was an interesting way to bring up conversations of how different people experience emotions and trauma. I enjoyed seeing how Rey and Marisol were able to help one another and form a friendship that eventually turns into something more.
This book covers a lot of important topics in addition to grief and PTSD. Immigration and the tendency to treat immigrants as “less than” or to dehumanize them was covered heavily. Sexuality, homophobia, depression, suicidal thoughts, and sexual assault are also brought up as well. I’d highly recommend this book. Even though I felt like the beginning wasn’t that strong, the rest of the book makes up for the slow start.
September 24, 2019
3.5 stars
Content warning for suicidal ideation and attempt, violence including murder, attempted sexual assault, PTSD, depression, and homophobia.
This was the group book for Latinxathon and LatinxLitTakeover and they chose well!
The good:
- Don't tell me all writing in YA sucks. There are some great lines here, great characterization, little moments that sing.
- No italics for Spanish, huzzah! And the code switching is so real. I connected with it as a person living in my second language - reverting to my first for low-frequency words like "freckles", and how mood can affect which language I default to.
- The plot is so well done. I couldn't put the book down until I reached the 75% mark. It was like I was attached via rubberband, constantly getting pulled back. And I love how many chapters end normally, you flip the page, and the first line of the next would makes you go "whaaa?!"
- Being speculative fiction we can examine devotion and dedication via the fantastical element of Marisol assuming someone else's grief. It makes the unknowable visual. The use of asylum seekers for medical experimentation also ties into the ongoing history of marginalized groups being used as subjects in drug and other testing in the United States.
- As the story goes on we see that nice people, despite being kind and well-meaning, can be part of an awful, unconscionable thing.
The not-so-good:
- While I'm not mad at the ending, it was a bit too pat for my liking.
- After gulping the book down I gave it four stars... but for whatever reason it hasn't stuck with me as much as I hoped. I'm not finding myself thinking about the characters or going back to reread passages. So a half star off for that.
If you like speculative fiction with plot, if you'd like to explore immigration issues from the inside out, if you want to be swept away by a story, read The Grief Keeper.
Content warning for suicidal ideation and attempt, violence including murder, attempted sexual assault, PTSD, depression, and homophobia.
This was the group book for Latinxathon and LatinxLitTakeover and they chose well!
The good:
- Don't tell me all writing in YA sucks. There are some great lines here, great characterization, little moments that sing.
- No italics for Spanish, huzzah! And the code switching is so real. I connected with it as a person living in my second language - reverting to my first for low-frequency words like "freckles", and how mood can affect which language I default to.
- The plot is so well done. I couldn't put the book down until I reached the 75% mark. It was like I was attached via rubberband, constantly getting pulled back. And I love how many chapters end normally, you flip the page, and the first line of the next would makes you go "whaaa?!"
- Being speculative fiction we can examine devotion and dedication via the fantastical element of Marisol assuming someone else's grief. It makes the unknowable visual. The use of asylum seekers for medical experimentation also ties into the ongoing history of marginalized groups being used as subjects in drug and other testing in the United States.
- As the story goes on we see that nice people, despite being kind and well-meaning, can be part of an awful, unconscionable thing.
The not-so-good:
- While I'm not mad at the ending, it was a bit too pat for my liking.
- After gulping the book down I gave it four stars... but for whatever reason it hasn't stuck with me as much as I hoped. I'm not finding myself thinking about the characters or going back to reread passages. So a half star off for that.
If you like speculative fiction with plot, if you'd like to explore immigration issues from the inside out, if you want to be swept away by a story, read The Grief Keeper.
July 28, 2019
4.5/5
- tw: sexual assault, suicidal ideas, bombing event, survivor’s guilt, PTSD, homophobia, dyke slur
- wow this book .. she’s a big of a sleeper in terms of impact for me personally
- we follow marisol as she seeks asylum for her and her sister; she takes on a new technological experiment to take and experience the grief of others; all while grieving her brother’s death and associated traumas
- there’s so many layers of themes explored from: immigration, sexual identity and homophobia, grief and depression
- it’s sounds pretty heavy which it is but it also finds balance in being light and hopeful
- aside from the great relevant topics the surrounding idea of such technological is also fascinating as well as the rationale behind it
- If we already didn’t know the know lengths that marisol would go through for her sister we also see in all other ways their loving sibling relationship
- Last but not least the slow burn f/f romance .. I can only describe as organic and tender
- A fantastic read and a debut too!! can’t wait to read more from the author
- tw: sexual assault, suicidal ideas, bombing event, survivor’s guilt, PTSD, homophobia, dyke slur
- wow this book .. she’s a big of a sleeper in terms of impact for me personally
- we follow marisol as she seeks asylum for her and her sister; she takes on a new technological experiment to take and experience the grief of others; all while grieving her brother’s death and associated traumas
- there’s so many layers of themes explored from: immigration, sexual identity and homophobia, grief and depression
- it’s sounds pretty heavy which it is but it also finds balance in being light and hopeful
- aside from the great relevant topics the surrounding idea of such technological is also fascinating as well as the rationale behind it
- If we already didn’t know the know lengths that marisol would go through for her sister we also see in all other ways their loving sibling relationship
- Last but not least the slow burn f/f romance .. I can only describe as organic and tender
- A fantastic read and a debut too!! can’t wait to read more from the author
April 30, 2020
This is gorgeous and tender and so important. What a powerful read, the journey of a gay brown inmigrant girl who will do anything to protect her sister. Marisol's inmigration experience resonated so deeply with me and I'm so thankful for this book.
Heads up for heavy content: discussion of xenophobia and racism, called out ableism, lesbophobia/homophobia, homophobic slurs (both in English and Spanish), suicidal ideation, recollection of trauma, death of a brother/closed relative, discussions of suicide.
This is not a book for everyone, not an easy read, but I do want people to know that the end is hopeful and not gays die here.
RTC
Heads up for heavy content: discussion of xenophobia and racism, called out ableism, lesbophobia/homophobia, homophobic slurs (both in English and Spanish), suicidal ideation, recollection of trauma, death of a brother/closed relative, discussions of suicide.
This is not a book for everyone, not an easy read, but I do want people to know that the end is hopeful and not gays die here.
RTC
May 9, 2019
Villasante tackles immigration, identity, and loss in this gorgeous novel with a magical realism/sci-fi twist. When Marisol agrees to become a grief keeper in exchange for asylum for herself and her younger sister, Gabi, she gets more than she bargained for. Rey, her corresponding test subject, is drowning in sorrow, but as she begins to heal at Marisol's expense, the two are drawn together in a beautiful and inextricable tangle.
Read
February 9, 2020Sharing grief might just take on a new meaning.
Escaping gang violence in their home country, El Salvador, Marisol and her little sister ,Gabi, got caught crossing the U.S. border. After learning that the woman who was going to take them in has died, and that they are going to be sent back, Marisol makes plans to flee.
The sisters hitchhike with an unassuming woman who turns out to be a government agent. She offers Marisol a deal of becoming a Griefkeeper (someone who takes another person's grief into their body) in exchange for being allowed to stay in the United States. Going home is not an option, so Marisol takes the deal. But when she meets Rey, the girl she's helping to heal, something far more powerful than grief develops between them.
A story of love, loss, and life after initial pain. A tale of just how far one girl will go to protect her sister.
Trigger warning for grief, PTSD, homophobia, sibling death, suicidal ideation, and suicide attempt.
Brave but terrified, Marisol was hardened with fortitude. Willing to do anything for those she loved, especially her little sister, she took on intense, emotionally heavy burdens. Although this protective soul was cautious, she was abundantly loving and caring towards her sister, and eventually Rey. Being inside her head, hearing her thoughts and the gradual reveal of her past let us get to know this genuine, vulnerable girl. Her experiences and overflowing well of emotions made her feel human. My soul truly ached for everything she went through.
From her sister, Gabi, to her deceased brother and the gang back home, from Rey to Indranie, the government agent, Marisol's actions were heavily swayed by those in her life. Wanting to give her sister a chance to start anew, she literally took on someone else's most painful emotions, while already dealing with her own. The lively Gabi respected her big sister, but also wanted to enjoy life in her own way. Wether caring, controlling, bickering, or loving, the bond between these two was powerfully sweet. Her siblings were never far from her mind as Marisol was also weighed down by memories of her brother and his involvement in the gang. Sarcastic, temperamental Rey was angry at the world. Finding common ground in the overwhelming greif of the loss of their siblings and more, she and Marisol built a relationship that was truly unique to them. Slowly burning and only growing in strength, it was beautiful to watch the progression of their bond. The analytical woman who made any of this possible, Indranie, left a really bad taste in my mouth as her emotional reasoning only seemed to come into play when something was going deeply, horribly wrong for her. I found the supporting cast to be well drawn.
What would you do for a chance at a better, safer life? Through memories of the past and her unforeseen present day, Marisol took on the burdens no one else was willing to take on. A contemporary with light sci-fi, grief, trauma and the role they play in shaping how we face the world was masterfully examined. While I initially thought the sci-fi elements would be the most intriguing part to me, the gorgeously crafted deep relationships blew me away. Marisol was such a strong individual, but even she was not immune to the heavy tolls of loss, depression, and suicidal thoughts. Capturing the beauty of sisterly love, new friendships, and the chance for romance, as well as the disturbing prescene of homophobia, dehumanization, and PTSD, Alexandra Villasante's debut moved me. It also talked about the rights and wrongs of how we treat immigrants in the U.S.A. Although the ending seemed a tad rushed and left me with a lot of unanswered questions about the futures of our characters, The Grief Keeper was a book that I will never forget.
The Grief Keeper is a book that will forever live inside my soul.
Escaping gang violence in their home country, El Salvador, Marisol and her little sister ,Gabi, got caught crossing the U.S. border. After learning that the woman who was going to take them in has died, and that they are going to be sent back, Marisol makes plans to flee.
The sisters hitchhike with an unassuming woman who turns out to be a government agent. She offers Marisol a deal of becoming a Griefkeeper (someone who takes another person's grief into their body) in exchange for being allowed to stay in the United States. Going home is not an option, so Marisol takes the deal. But when she meets Rey, the girl she's helping to heal, something far more powerful than grief develops between them.
A story of love, loss, and life after initial pain. A tale of just how far one girl will go to protect her sister.
Trigger warning for grief, PTSD, homophobia, sibling death, suicidal ideation, and suicide attempt.
Brave but terrified, Marisol was hardened with fortitude. Willing to do anything for those she loved, especially her little sister, she took on intense, emotionally heavy burdens. Although this protective soul was cautious, she was abundantly loving and caring towards her sister, and eventually Rey. Being inside her head, hearing her thoughts and the gradual reveal of her past let us get to know this genuine, vulnerable girl. Her experiences and overflowing well of emotions made her feel human. My soul truly ached for everything she went through.
From her sister, Gabi, to her deceased brother and the gang back home, from Rey to Indranie, the government agent, Marisol's actions were heavily swayed by those in her life. Wanting to give her sister a chance to start anew, she literally took on someone else's most painful emotions, while already dealing with her own. The lively Gabi respected her big sister, but also wanted to enjoy life in her own way. Wether caring, controlling, bickering, or loving, the bond between these two was powerfully sweet. Her siblings were never far from her mind as Marisol was also weighed down by memories of her brother and his involvement in the gang. Sarcastic, temperamental Rey was angry at the world. Finding common ground in the overwhelming greif of the loss of their siblings and more, she and Marisol built a relationship that was truly unique to them. Slowly burning and only growing in strength, it was beautiful to watch the progression of their bond. The analytical woman who made any of this possible, Indranie, left a really bad taste in my mouth as her emotional reasoning only seemed to come into play when something was going deeply, horribly wrong for her. I found the supporting cast to be well drawn.
What would you do for a chance at a better, safer life? Through memories of the past and her unforeseen present day, Marisol took on the burdens no one else was willing to take on. A contemporary with light sci-fi, grief, trauma and the role they play in shaping how we face the world was masterfully examined. While I initially thought the sci-fi elements would be the most intriguing part to me, the gorgeously crafted deep relationships blew me away. Marisol was such a strong individual, but even she was not immune to the heavy tolls of loss, depression, and suicidal thoughts. Capturing the beauty of sisterly love, new friendships, and the chance for romance, as well as the disturbing prescene of homophobia, dehumanization, and PTSD, Alexandra Villasante's debut moved me. It also talked about the rights and wrongs of how we treat immigrants in the U.S.A. Although the ending seemed a tad rushed and left me with a lot of unanswered questions about the futures of our characters, The Grief Keeper was a book that I will never forget.
The Grief Keeper is a book that will forever live inside my soul.
January 20, 2021
An exceptional concept that took as much time as it needed to build. Full review to come
Tw; attempted suicide, bombings, murder, violence, homophobia, molestation, lack of agency.
Tw; attempted suicide, bombings, murder, violence, homophobia, molestation, lack of agency.
June 29, 2019
Rating: 4.5 stars.
Review coming soooooon!
In the meantime, let me just say: NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE ARE READING THIS AND WHY, JUST WHY
Review coming soooooon!
In the meantime, let me just say: NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE ARE READING THIS AND WHY, JUST WHY
January 3, 2019
You need this book. The Grief Keeper is… a marvel. Every once in a while, I’ll read a book that I recognize as truly special almost immediately—it has that magic that pulls you in and makes you care and think, really think, from the get go—and GK is one of these.
It reminded me of one of my all-time favorites (Never Let Me Go) in the brilliant way Villasante married a thought-provoking speculative premise to character-driven literary realism. The meshing of Marisol and Rey’s grief—over the loss of beloved family and long-held views of themselves—took my breath away (which isn’t a phrase I use often for obviously cheesy reasons).
I am in awe of how she layered their experiences in and over each other, in expected ways and much more surprising ones. I loved the exploration of the flawed immigration system and the parallels drawn between very different immigrant experiences. And I adored the sibling relationships inside GK, especially between Marisol and Gabi. Villasante captured that die-for-you family dedication, and its flip-side, the cruel, loudly voiced disapproval when someone doesn’t fit norms. Marisol and Gabi are fierce and tender warriors that will inspire people of all ages for years to come.
There is so much to say about GK (I mean, also how Villasante integrated the Spanish humor?!), but...wow. I have so much to think about. Here's a book you will never forget.
It reminded me of one of my all-time favorites (Never Let Me Go) in the brilliant way Villasante married a thought-provoking speculative premise to character-driven literary realism. The meshing of Marisol and Rey’s grief—over the loss of beloved family and long-held views of themselves—took my breath away (which isn’t a phrase I use often for obviously cheesy reasons).
I am in awe of how she layered their experiences in and over each other, in expected ways and much more surprising ones. I loved the exploration of the flawed immigration system and the parallels drawn between very different immigrant experiences. And I adored the sibling relationships inside GK, especially between Marisol and Gabi. Villasante captured that die-for-you family dedication, and its flip-side, the cruel, loudly voiced disapproval when someone doesn’t fit norms. Marisol and Gabi are fierce and tender warriors that will inspire people of all ages for years to come.
There is so much to say about GK (I mean, also how Villasante integrated the Spanish humor?!), but...wow. I have so much to think about. Here's a book you will never forget.
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