For most of this book, I intended to give it a 3/5 rating - a bit meh, but with a good start. By the end, I was reading it just to be finished with it, and in m opinion it just wasn't salvageable. "The Kindest Lie" had a good plot concept, and great themes to work with, but it consistently underdelivered.
Ruth was unsympathetic to a fault. She was selfish, judgmental, and inexplicably naive, given the fact that she was supposed to be this highly educated, tough woman who had overcome quite a bit, had faced plenty of racial injustice, and was demanding her rightful place in the world - then why was she so flat? So unable to see any kind of nuance? So completely lackluster? Her abject shock at her son's adoption being "off the books" was ludicrous, and she just came off as unfathomably stupid. That was only one of the many moments that had me thinking -- how is she so dense? Her attitude towards her sister in law was outright infuriating - how dare she preach that Cassie stand by her man when Ruth immaturely spends most of the book refusing to confront or talk to her own husband who, unlike Eli Tuttle, bears no fault in their rift?? Ruth goes from 11 years of (at least, it's implied) not thinking about her son to this one-track mind attitude of "I need to find MY son and make sure he's being raised by GOOD people" - it's incongruous and, frankly, gets more and more offensive throughout the book. The author tries repeatedly to make Ruth sympathetic or to paint her as loving up until and even after the moment where she cruelly injects herself to a young boy's life and makes his entire terrifying ordeal all about her.
Of Ruth's husband, Xavier - he existed for no reason. He was a pointless character who was a weird amalgam of "good man" stereotypes, had no substance, and served as an (unconvincing) push for Ruth to go back home.
So much of this book's driving plot was just absurd. The fact that we were supposed to believe in a tiny, close knit town, Ruth's teenage pregnancy was hidden so well that her best friend never knew? Despite the fact, of course, that Ruth is constantly described as so skinny and bony that a "big t-shirt" wouldn't hide a damn thing. And despite all the hush-hush secrecy of a literal home birth, a newborn apparently randomly appearing with a childless family, no paperwork, some shady Church dealings -- Ruth easily deduces who "her son" is because he has a giant, convenient birth mark on his face.
The book just became more and more of a soapy cringe-fest, page after page. It's written badly - the dialogue sounds like platitudes taken from a college freshman's primer on race/class theory. The narrative descriptions are actually mostly wonderful, but the sin of "telling, rather than showing," is so present here that it's difficult to overlook. Take a shot every time Obama is mentioned for no other reason than to remind the reader that it's 2008, and the characters are Black. Take a shot every time the phrase "but it was the 90s, then" or some variation pops up. Take a shot every time Midnight, who has grown up in a town clearly constantly confronting racial tensions, has no fucking clue what's going on.
The gang subplot was laughable, and felt very much like an author raised in Chicago having no idea what small time life is like, and thus trying to make it relatable to someone raised in the city, to a topic she could speak on. The final confrontation involving Midnight, Corey, and the police was so histrionic I almost quit the book - I do NOT doubt the ignorance and malice of white men and young white boys, but given Midnight's characterization up to that point, I found that act INTENSELY difficult to believe, and instead a very cheap plot device.
The lack of emotion throughout this book, too, was just...odd. In a story that should have been a multifaceted, compelling, nuanced look at race, class, economic disaster, and motherhood in America, this was a clunky, weakly written ride through very (excuse the idiom) Black and White narratives - even in the literal sense, as the tone of the book kept harping on "This happened and Ruth was BLACK" and "This happened and Midnight was WHITE" - it wasn't a useful storytelling narrative.
I mean, it's disappointing, because you've got Angie Thomas out here writing riveting, hard-hitting YA novels that deal with these topics, and you've got a book like Jacqueline Woodsen's "Red at the Bone" that does the same sort of thing so completely beautifully, and then ... there's this.
There were no kind lies in this novel. And there weren't really any good points made, either.