I think 'Kisscut' generally is realistic and true to life. It's about child sexual abuse. If you are sensitive or triggered, I wouldn't recommend reading this novel. However, if you are curious or want to be aware of how sometimes sexual abuse works invisibly in our society, and how it affects victims, I highly recommend this novel.
I want people to read novels like this because a part of me feels 'if people only knew, they would be more proactive in prevention', which of course, is a foolish hope. A part of me, the experienced part, knows a lot of people do not become more proactive, even if they talk the talk, but instead turn into deniers when actually faced with it, or accuse the victim of playing the part of victim for personal gain. Abusers almost never admit to abusing anyone, so often the truth is only word against word.
Defining abuse is an issue. Punishing a child ranges from 'time-outs' to swats and making them miss an occasional supper to being beaten for days with belts, fists and feet and eating once a week confined by chains to a bed. What 'being bad' is is all over the map as defined in family or institutional definitions, as well as what 'being bad' deserves as punishment or 'correction', as religious people think of it. 'Being bad' can be swearing or setting the pet on fire.
People vary in their responses to abuse, whether it's hearing or seeing abuse. Some people dust themselves off and move on, others collapse into hopeless helpless useless puddles of trauma and drama queendom. Helping oneself is 80% of recovery. Dissolving into angry violence or eternal martyrdom is useless and self-destructive, but no one can predict how any one will react or recover, if they recover. One person can be scarred and psychologically maimed for life seeing another person get slapped, while someone else can be raped from age two to thirteen and find recovery eventually in time, with no one knowing there ever was a bad childhood.
Books like this are an answer, a good effective one in my opinion. Reading a dramatic dark mystery by yourself is mostly a nonjudgmental experience, and socially private. You can choose to read it or not. You can choose privately to believe it can happen or not, since it's simply a fictional novel. You can accept it as entertainment or personal validation or education. You can acquaint yourself further about the topic with facts and information from the Internet or the library, or get books from a bookstore. You can think about what you would do in similar circumstances, or not. No one will know if you read it, thought about it, or what you thought about it, unless you talk about it. If it is too terrible to contemplate, no one will know about either your lack of courage or belief or if you were triggered. You can privately choose what boundaries to live by, what standards to set, or whether you choose to avoid all mention or thinking about the subject of child abuse hereafter. You can frame the issue in your mind in any manner you choose.
As an aging adult, all I can do is witness and give my opinion. This is a realistic novel about a real problem. I cannot recommend it as a read for everyone, but if the subject of sexual abuse of children interests you and somewhat graphic, but realistic, descriptions do not send you screaming from the room in denial or horror, then this is a great book to read for both emotional and social depictions of 'what happens'. I usually read mysteries for entertainment, which I speak of regularly, but I also read for validation and a type of 'sharing', which I don't always talk about. Today, I want to share my inside view.
The main hero characters in the book are from a small town and a small county with the usual conformist pressures of a close community, but they are proactive in seeking legal, medical and social solutions once they are aware of what has been happening. It wasn't always so in real life. A major flaw in the novel is how easily the parts of the puzzle come to light and are put together by the characters. I think real life is more like 'Chinatown', the movie, and superheroes don't exist in real life.
My childhood was a ruin similar to the victims in this book. I survived it, but not without costs.
Let's call my childhood neighborhood Evergreen Gulch.
To the outside world, the Gulch was a mixed/low-income area. It was unincorporated but urban. On the south side of Evergreen Gulch district across a street the real city began; but on my street, the north side, the Gulch had blocks of empty grassy fields between blocks of houses, some that were kept up and some that were wrecked. No sidewalks. Open ditches. Beater cars. Unlicensed and uninsured everything. Lawns a parody of the word. When adults worked, they were in 'entry level' jobs forever. How could they advance into good paying jobs with almost no ability to read or write? Lives were interrupted because of WWII or the Great Depression or prejudice. Others spent decades of their lives on Welfare; some families went back three generations on Welfare. But it wasn't all consistently poor and ignorant residents. A couple of blocks would look similar to a third world neighborhood; then there would be a block or two of comfortable middle-class homes, with nice cars and mowed lawns.
This was 60 years ago. No internet. There were only 4 national TV stations which began broadcasting at 5 AM and went off the air at midnight. Only AM radio stations operated - no FM or digital.
Starting at the middle school level, schools had two tracks of education - college-ready or 'technical', which often depended on the family's wealth and involvement. 'Technical' education was where almost 90% of all females were placed whether middle-class or poor. A 'technical' high school diploma would not get them into college - no foreign language, no extra years of science or math.
Poor parents often were terrified of books and teachers and schools. My parents were in this category. My father often acted as if books were poisonous to touch, but he knew the school required books to come home with schoolchildren, and parents could get in serious trouble if they didn't send their kids to school, so books were the one thing he allowed me to keep, thinking them all from school. So at the time, the Salvation Army store with the shelves of 5-cent paperbacks and the public library were my hangouts of safety.
Evergreen Gulch was made up mostly of second and third generation European white trash, with a sprinkle of Native Americans amongst us that the white trash thought of as the 'real' trash people. Everyone was very religious, mostly Protestants. Drug of choice was alcohol, with sleeping pills or diet pills as a chaser.
Officially, child abuse and wife abuse was not a crime - literally. There weren't any laws on the books under which to charge an offender because raping your children or beating/torturing your family was considered normal for white trash. Male abusers who abused the family were not either offenders or criminals by any definition. Some, but only some, people thought family abuse was immoral, but after all, it was a biblical commandment for men to 'correct' their women and children. Fathers, if they still were around, were normally drunk and raging most nights, and since it was so common to have drunken raging fathers, drunken beatings were also socially normalized.
Everyone went to a church on Sundays. If your father -most common, or mother -not so common, almost killed you or tortured or raped you, no one stopped it nor was there any place to go for help. It was rigorously taught by church authorities and 'enforced' by god and all of society that children must love, obey and fear. Parents raping or beating their own kids to a pulp, uncomfortable as it may have been to glimpse, wasn't ever in the news, and no one ever was arrested for it. And it WAS common in neighborhoods of poor people (but even we who lived there didn't know sometimes exactly all of where it was going on), and no one talked about it. We knew who was on welfare and we knew which fathers and mothers drank because they spilled out into the streets or bars drunk regularly, and we knew who sometimes might be looking to beat up their family if they could find where they were hiding. That's all.
It was only decades later, when we survivors began to talk openly about it, we learned exactly how common abuse and rape was in the neighborhood. We discovered that as we endured the chaos within our own four walls, we did not know as much as we thought that next door the same or worse chaos and pain was being played out.
Despite therapy and decades of moving on, it is only with other survivors I feel truly comfortable. There is a paradigm of reality which cannot be bridged. I am faced regularly with people who think a prayer or some kind of spiritual device fixes everything, that a god or society watches over every bird in the trees of the world. As someone who has buried tortured kittens and puppies, I cannot agree.
Generally, I handle it by keeping silent with folks who are innocent of any true knowledge of the effects of long-term and constant parental crime, brutality and abuse, enduring the innocent but stupid and ridiculous babblings of religious and legal pablum. It is similar to speaking with individuals who seem to be unaware they can be injured or die if they jump off of a 100-foot cliff, who confidently explain to you that a god or a lawyer or a policeman or a teacher or a minister will reach out a hand and save you, that you are being silly in thinking any harm can possibly occur or if it does, it can be cured by the power of whatever. The worse beliefs people express to me are that there will be rewards of personal growth in having suffered, or that if you hadn't wanted it to happen it wouldn't have happened because you would have done something to prevent it.
Actually, the fact is sh*t happens, damage occurs, and you either live with it or not. Sometimes there is help, sometimes not. Survival depends on luck and learning to be your own best friend, but also in knowing not everyone is a monster and you can choose positive life-affirming options as time goes on as you grow up. My own biggest remaining issues with what happened, still setting me off into rants today, are people who rely on a god to fix it all or who believe if god didn't fix the problem it must be you were blocking god or it's all a mystery of god's divine will, or those who think it happens only when bad people are being bad but it never happens when people are good or Republican Party voters.
True story: a mother-in-law, who I'll call Faith, who was extremely religious, and who frightened every child in her family from the age of two with stories about how god saw every thought in their head and every action in the bathroom, told me a story about her own childhood family. She hated her sister because she believed her sister was her father's favorite. Faith believed her sister was an evil whore. Faith believed her sister connived, lied and deceived her way through life, never taking responsibility. When I asked why, she told me her sister used to sit in her father's lap, doing lap dances and acting out sexually to get favors. I don't know why, but it struck me to ask the following question: how old was your sister when you noticed her doing this? Faith spat out, "She was nine years old when I first noticed it. I hope at some point she asked for God's forgiveness." Faith rarely spoke after childhood with her sister, and obviously had never 'forgiven' her.
Faith had seven children who felt and feel she was a saint. However, their father, Faith's husband, was a drunken physically abusive monster, who was very successful financially until he drank the money away. To their surviving children, all extremely religious as well, their father was a horror. To me, I think their mother was a horror, too. She never divorced, and she never protected her children except to ask god to protect them. Unfortunately, he never did. But she succeeded in instilling the fear of god in every one of her children, who frequently 'share' with me on Facebook various sayings, truisms and quotations from the Bible. Thankfully, I see they, actual physical beings with actual physical activities in this reality plane, are physically and actively protecting their children to the best of their ability, education level and financial status. Social awareness, education and female civil rights seems to be making a dent in reducing abusive family life, if not religious faith.
For myself, I do not blame 9-year-olds for seducing grown men. But then, I'm not religious. And I'm not aware of any god rescuing nine-year-olds or any children, from any distresses or harms throughout history. I think a lot of stuff happens naturally without people or a god having been instrumental. As far as when people are involved with tragedy: there are good and bad people, ignorant and scared people, wise and educated people, and people who have authority and power, and people who are simply trying to survive. All one can do is increase their odds of survival and success with what they know and possess right now, and hope they end up on the right side of the curve of statistical 'luck' .
To those who have somehow survived a disaster or attack, those people who then attribute their survival to a god's rescue, and try to explain patiently to me how The Lord saved them, then it's obvious to me that god plays favorites, and I'm left wondering why was that kid or person worthy of saving and not me? I must have been deemed Satan's own at my birth as a newborn.
My earliest memory is of my dad kicking me in the back out into a street in front of a car, which quickly hit the brakes. I was two years old, and my dad was screaming at my mother for some reason. He had on what I now know was his Army uniform. He was going to Germany soon (for two years) to watch the Soviets and Germans (it was twelve years or so after World War II). I do not know to this day what I did that was so bad my dad punished me by trying to kill me. I had been walking holding my mother's hand. After he left, my mom had boyfriends. By the time dad came back, I had been abused continuously by many men. My dad also picked up where he left off. I prayed a lot, gentle reader, to be good so that the hurting and being afraid of dying would stop. Alas, I never was saved from any abuse. I guess I was an evil tot from birth, like the Bible said (original sin).
Many children are told they are punished for good reasons by their parents, sanctioned by God, and good children do not question either parents, god or adult authority. I was so told by EVERYBODY. I suspect many children like me from young ages do not know why god apparently hates them, too.
The last time my dad kicked me I was twenty-two. He had widened his repertoire of punishments by then, so I got more than a kicking. My terrible crime was not moving fast enough when he ordered me to wash the dishes. I had to stay home from work the next day. I sure knew all about god's hatred of females and society's indifference to abuse of females, by this point. "You must have done something" -translation: I deserved it for being in the wrong somehow, even if I had no clue, or "stay out of his way" -translation: " live on the streets, or get married. Women made one quarter of the salary of what men did for the same work and were expected to quit working if they got pregnant whether raped or not (abortion was illegal), women were not allowed to go to many colleges and if they were admitted, they were only allowed to study certain subjects. Women could be secretaries, clerks or waitresses or nurses or teachers. Married women did not have control of their own money in bank accounts (husband immediately was in charge of all financial transactions and all credit after marriage) nor could married women sign contracts alone for credit purchases like cars, furniture or houses. When I got married, my bank sent me a new credit card with only my husband's name on it - my new 'joint' account.
For the record, I see rescues of people as luck or social intervention, not from an invisible, or visible for that matter, god. However, most people thank a god for their deliverance, no matter who actually saved them. A lot of people need their delusions. What I actually needed was physical strength, real people stepping up to intervene, personal courage, sanity and friends.)