What do you think?
Rate this book
Up High in the Trees
An exquisite debut novel about a family in turmoil told in the startling, deeply affecting voice of a nine-year-old, autistic boy. Following the sudden death of Sebby’s mother, his father takes Sebby to live in the family’s summerhouse, hoping it will give them both time and space to recover. But Sebby’s father deteriorates in this new isolation, leaving Sebby struggling to understand his mother’s death alone, dreaming and even re-living moments of her life. He ultimately reaches out to a favorite teacher back home and to two nearby children who force him out of the void of the past and help him to exist in the present. In spare and gorgeous prose buoyed by the life force of its small, fearless narrator, Up High in the Trees introduces an astonishingly fresh and powerful literary voice.
336 pages, Hardcover
First published June 8, 2007
31 people are currently reading
579 people want to read
About the author
Kiara Brinkman
4 books16 followersKiara Brinkman's novel, Up High in the Trees, was a New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice and a Chicago Tribune Favorite Book. Lucy in the sky, her first graphic novel, was one of the Beat's Best Comics of 2021. Rhiannon is her second graphic novel.
Kiara lives in the Bay Area with her husband, illustrator, Sean Chiki, and three children. If she's not reading or writing or playing with her children, she's busy working on the perfect playlist for the next big occasion.
Kiara lives in the Bay Area with her husband, illustrator, Sean Chiki, and three children. If she's not reading or writing or playing with her children, she's busy working on the perfect playlist for the next big occasion.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 141 reviews
December 30, 2013
No one could blame you for turning away from Kiara Brinkman's haunting first novel. The muffled pain of Up High in the Trees will trigger your reflex for emotional protection but, if you can bear it, the treasures here are exquisite. I can't remember when I ever felt so torn between recoiling from a story and wishing I could somehow cross into its pages and comfort a character.
Brinkman's narrator, 8-year-old Sebby Lane, lives in Massachusetts with his father, a music professor at Wellesley, and his older sister and brother. All of them are rubbed raw with grief, clinging to their routines just to stay alive. Five months earlier Sebby's mother was hit and killed by a car while jogging at night. She had been pregnant, carrying a baby they had already named Sara Rose. In vignettes that range from just a few lines to a couple of pages, Sebby describes the harrowing months that follow his mother's death. He becomes increasingly confused and angry, aggressive and incommunicative. When he's suspended from the third grade, his father takes him to their summer house in Vermont, hoping the setting will give them both a chance to heal. But instead, his father quickly slides into a crippling depression, growing quieter and stiller until he's spending whole days lying on the floor listening to music or wandering barefoot through the snowy woods. Sebby is left to care for himself, bravely struggling to fathom the tragedy that tore their lives apart.
It's clear that he and his mother adored each other and sought refuge in a special emotional space amid this family. "I used to write notes to Mother," he tells us, "and hide them in places." Now, he's left with his memories of her, memories he's desperate to retain. "I can't fall asleep," he says one night, "because I know what I want is to remember everything Mother did." But even in the family stories that he polishes over and over, ominous implications about his mother's mental health seep through; her death seems less and less accidental.
Believe me, I have no interest in the kind of masochistic sentimentality this plot suggests, but it's saved from mawkishness by an arresting balance of delicacy and resiliency. Sebby speaks in a quiet, poetic voice, swollen with sorrow, but pared down to the point of austerity. Here's one of these vignettes in its entirety:
"Dad's waiting for us in the kitchen. He's sitting with his elbows on the table. Between his elbows, there's his black coffee mug with steam twisting up. I walk over to him. Dad grabs me and holds me against his loud chest. I put my hand over his heart and feel it beating. Dad stands up with me. He walks in circles around the table.
"Goddamn it, he says. He sets me down and looks at me with his hands on my shoulders and then he hugs me too hard."
Again and again we see Sebby's acute sensitivity to smells and sounds, his startling sense of the world around him: "Straight ahead," he says, "the empty white sky gets brighter. I look down at my lap, but the white sky glow stays and makes me see glowing spots all over. It's true that the sun can make you blind if you look at it for too long. I close my eyes tight and think about how the sun fills up the whole sky with light. Then my head is quiet and there's the sound of trees growing, stretching up and up. The trees are growing and making everything else small."
This is a novel in which the smallest, quietest moments are the most shattering. In one, Sebby takes a favorite picture of his mother and throws it in the lake. "I stand up with my hand hanging down heavy," he says, "and I watch the picture underwater. I'm waiting for Mother's picture to make me jump. Then Mother's face flickers dark and I jump in to save her." It's a weird little ritual, almost too intimate to endure, like so much of this heartbreaking novel, which should be read in a single, reverent hush.
Although none of the characters names his condition, Sebby exhibits symptoms of autism, probably a milder form called Asperger's syndrome. He can speak, but only in short sentences that sometimes seem inappropriate or illogical. He takes great comfort in routine and shuts down when stressed, retreating to hiding places under his bed or under tables. But he displays none of the savant abilities associated with autism in the popular imagination. (Thanks for nothing, "Rainman.") Though Sebby's family must deal with the exasperating demands of his condition at all times, his condition never becomes the focus of the novel. Readers who enjoyed Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time will find this an entirely different book -- narrower emotionally and thematically. But like Haddon, Brinkman has tutored youngsters with autism, and parents of autistic children will find her sensitive portrayal of Sebby particularly moving.
And yet I can't emphasize enough that Up High in the Trees is not a novel about autism, a condition that affects nearly 1 percent of us; it's about grief, a condition that affects 100 percent of us at one time or another. Compared to the dysfunction all around him, Sebby's mental condition doesn't seem so peculiar at all. Indeed, in Brinkman's handling, autism becomes an illuminating metaphor for the isolating effects of mourning, and Sebby's innocent voice speaks for anyone bravely grasping for order and solace amid unspeakable loss.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/...
Brinkman's narrator, 8-year-old Sebby Lane, lives in Massachusetts with his father, a music professor at Wellesley, and his older sister and brother. All of them are rubbed raw with grief, clinging to their routines just to stay alive. Five months earlier Sebby's mother was hit and killed by a car while jogging at night. She had been pregnant, carrying a baby they had already named Sara Rose. In vignettes that range from just a few lines to a couple of pages, Sebby describes the harrowing months that follow his mother's death. He becomes increasingly confused and angry, aggressive and incommunicative. When he's suspended from the third grade, his father takes him to their summer house in Vermont, hoping the setting will give them both a chance to heal. But instead, his father quickly slides into a crippling depression, growing quieter and stiller until he's spending whole days lying on the floor listening to music or wandering barefoot through the snowy woods. Sebby is left to care for himself, bravely struggling to fathom the tragedy that tore their lives apart.
It's clear that he and his mother adored each other and sought refuge in a special emotional space amid this family. "I used to write notes to Mother," he tells us, "and hide them in places." Now, he's left with his memories of her, memories he's desperate to retain. "I can't fall asleep," he says one night, "because I know what I want is to remember everything Mother did." But even in the family stories that he polishes over and over, ominous implications about his mother's mental health seep through; her death seems less and less accidental.
Believe me, I have no interest in the kind of masochistic sentimentality this plot suggests, but it's saved from mawkishness by an arresting balance of delicacy and resiliency. Sebby speaks in a quiet, poetic voice, swollen with sorrow, but pared down to the point of austerity. Here's one of these vignettes in its entirety:
"Dad's waiting for us in the kitchen. He's sitting with his elbows on the table. Between his elbows, there's his black coffee mug with steam twisting up. I walk over to him. Dad grabs me and holds me against his loud chest. I put my hand over his heart and feel it beating. Dad stands up with me. He walks in circles around the table.
"Goddamn it, he says. He sets me down and looks at me with his hands on my shoulders and then he hugs me too hard."
Again and again we see Sebby's acute sensitivity to smells and sounds, his startling sense of the world around him: "Straight ahead," he says, "the empty white sky gets brighter. I look down at my lap, but the white sky glow stays and makes me see glowing spots all over. It's true that the sun can make you blind if you look at it for too long. I close my eyes tight and think about how the sun fills up the whole sky with light. Then my head is quiet and there's the sound of trees growing, stretching up and up. The trees are growing and making everything else small."
This is a novel in which the smallest, quietest moments are the most shattering. In one, Sebby takes a favorite picture of his mother and throws it in the lake. "I stand up with my hand hanging down heavy," he says, "and I watch the picture underwater. I'm waiting for Mother's picture to make me jump. Then Mother's face flickers dark and I jump in to save her." It's a weird little ritual, almost too intimate to endure, like so much of this heartbreaking novel, which should be read in a single, reverent hush.
Although none of the characters names his condition, Sebby exhibits symptoms of autism, probably a milder form called Asperger's syndrome. He can speak, but only in short sentences that sometimes seem inappropriate or illogical. He takes great comfort in routine and shuts down when stressed, retreating to hiding places under his bed or under tables. But he displays none of the savant abilities associated with autism in the popular imagination. (Thanks for nothing, "Rainman.") Though Sebby's family must deal with the exasperating demands of his condition at all times, his condition never becomes the focus of the novel. Readers who enjoyed Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time will find this an entirely different book -- narrower emotionally and thematically. But like Haddon, Brinkman has tutored youngsters with autism, and parents of autistic children will find her sensitive portrayal of Sebby particularly moving.
And yet I can't emphasize enough that Up High in the Trees is not a novel about autism, a condition that affects nearly 1 percent of us; it's about grief, a condition that affects 100 percent of us at one time or another. Compared to the dysfunction all around him, Sebby's mental condition doesn't seem so peculiar at all. Indeed, in Brinkman's handling, autism becomes an illuminating metaphor for the isolating effects of mourning, and Sebby's innocent voice speaks for anyone bravely grasping for order and solace amid unspeakable loss.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/...
September 15, 2007
Beautifully written and surprisingly engaging. Despite what one would expect from the eye-rollingly sensitive plot description, this does not read like a typical tearjerker or Lifetime movie special. Here a simple tragedy is given new depths – emotional and occasionally comic – by the creation of a unique narrative voice and a fully-developed setting in personal and historical time. Strangely, for me the two most tragic elements of the story – the undisclosed autism and mother's sudden and confusing death – did not carry the most emotional weight. Instead (as in Faulkner) the narrative itself is the content – a fluid and mysterious way in which we remember things from childhood as a flight of little discontinuous scenarios, sensations, fragments of conversation, and world events beyond our comprehension. Autism or not, this is the way we experience and remember a world we do not fully understand.
December 2, 2016
This is a book I picked up solely on the basis of the cover blurb (an eight-year-old boy deals with the death of his mother) rather than reading any reviews of it first. Having read it, I kind of wish I had read reviews, as I might have avoided it.[return][return]It's not that it was bad. It was well-written and I enjoyed the story for the most part, but. From the summary, it was not obvious that the narrator is on the autism spectrum. It's never mentioned outright in the story, either, but it's pretty obvious that he is meant to be (and when I did go and read reviews on Amazon afterwards, they all mentioned it). And like The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (which sounded like such a huge ball of stereotypes it set off all my "do not want" bells and I will definitely not be reading), everyone is oohing and aahing over seeing inside the mind of a boy with Asperger's. But they're not, because of course this is not written by someone on the spectrum, so it's just some NT's imagination of what it might be like. It wasn't completely horrible, but still.[return][return]I have been reading a lot of discussions lately about who gets to tell what stories, and if it's all the rage to have an autistic character, I'd like to see ones by actual autistic authors. I'm not really interested in reading stories by NTs who presume to speak for those on the spectrum.
March 6, 2021
A little boy’s grief over the loss of his mother. She was hit by a car, an accident, but she had recently had a miscarriage. The little boy did not know that part through most of the book. He knew how she ran at night, had gone with her sometimes. He revealed he could see her run into the headlights, in his head. Grief expressed in many ways by this family. We all grieve differently.
March 12, 2018
Really enjoyed this book. It's beautifully written, and captivating despite having very little in the way of traditional action, conflict, and character development. I think depending on your background, you may read Sebastian's narration different. Sebastian reminded me in many ways of someone on the Autism spectrum, but I found the book handled this is an interesting way, by never naming it and instead just letting Sebastian find his way, and we the readers can watch and learn with him.
I find it equally interesting and appreciate the very candid and valid points from some Goodreads reviewers on the Autism spectrum about their right to tell their stories from their perspective (noting that author Kiara Brinkman is neurotypical). I love the discussion, and recall a similar discussion over Jon Elder Robison's book, Look Me in the Eye. It reminds me just how significant a spectrum it truly is, and reminds me to always keep my mind wide open.
I find it equally interesting and appreciate the very candid and valid points from some Goodreads reviewers on the Autism spectrum about their right to tell their stories from their perspective (noting that author Kiara Brinkman is neurotypical). I love the discussion, and recall a similar discussion over Jon Elder Robison's book, Look Me in the Eye. It reminds me just how significant a spectrum it truly is, and reminds me to always keep my mind wide open.
April 27, 2009
There was a review (I believe in NYT) comparing this novel to The Sound and The Fury, regarding mental illness and its impact on the narrator. I don't think many of the passages here carry the weight of some of The Sound's stronger sections, but it's easier to walk away from Up High in the Trees with some idea of what happens.
The short sections offer too much blank space to really appreciate after a while. You turn the pages too quickly. There are some moments, however, that I found endearing. It has not been my intention, but it seems like every novel I have read recently is about an anchorless youth whose sole parent is a distant presence. Here, we find the same thing except the widower father has a mental illnes that the narrator discusses in vague terms, because Sebby has not much vocabulary.
The short sections offer too much blank space to really appreciate after a while. You turn the pages too quickly. There are some moments, however, that I found endearing. It has not been my intention, but it seems like every novel I have read recently is about an anchorless youth whose sole parent is a distant presence. Here, we find the same thing except the widower father has a mental illnes that the narrator discusses in vague terms, because Sebby has not much vocabulary.
March 24, 2011
I picked up this book when I suddenly went out of town with my bf for Wisconsin's blizzard 2011. While he was out plowing roads, I was stuck in the hotel with nothing besides 10 channels on the tv and this book.
It is not horribly written... The characters aren't well rounded. You tend to make assumptions about Sebby. Maybe he's Autistic or something? It is never really explained. The dad seemed to be having a complete mental breakdown. I guess I just kept waiting for more or expecting something to happen. While reading the book, I continually complained about the lack of plot. There just was no "meat" to this book. It fell flat for me.
It is not horribly written... The characters aren't well rounded. You tend to make assumptions about Sebby. Maybe he's Autistic or something? It is never really explained. The dad seemed to be having a complete mental breakdown. I guess I just kept waiting for more or expecting something to happen. While reading the book, I continually complained about the lack of plot. There just was no "meat" to this book. It fell flat for me.
March 14, 2018
I love the voice and point of view of Sebby, the young narrator. This was a faced paced read, but it left me wanting in the end. I needed more understanding of his mother and father, of his siblings...but the things I love about this choice in narrator also make those pieces of information nearly impossible to get my hands on. This would be a great choice for a book club because it begs to be discussed.
February 6, 2023
I really liked this book. It drew me in and kept me wanting to read more. I liked that that narrator was an eight year old boy with some issues that cause him to think and act in unusual ways. It was interesting to see how he came to cope with losing his mother and interact with his father who was battling his own demons due to the tragic loss of his wife. It was sweet to see the family come back together and become whole once more.
April 9, 2020
I am not sure what the author was trying to do here. If the boy is autistic, it is not obvious, but he doesn't seem "normal" in terms of his emotional reactions. The boy and his father are trying to get through the grief of the death of the mother/wife. The "friendship relationships between the kids are very odd.
tbr-books-i-own
September 25, 2020Setting this aside in favor of another story with an autistic protagonist, Rogue by Lyn Miller-Lachmann, because as far as I can tell, Kiara Brinkman is a neurotypical, whereas Lyn Miller-Lachmann is autistic, so I'd like to prioritize the #ownvoices aspect of that book as opposed to yet another autistic character written by a neurotypical. :)
August 1, 2019
I will always read the blurb on the covers of books and this time a comment from "People" really struck me "... Sebby Lane will break your heart and delight your soul". Really enjoyed this and liked the way it was written in short bursts from Sebby.
November 22, 2023
3,5* Sebastian é uma criança especial (com Síndrome de Asperger) e é pela sua voz que após a morte da sua mãe, nos transmite de forma tocante e comovente todo o seu mundo interior. Este é um livro de uma sensibilidade muito especial, mas que não será do agrado de todos
June 14, 2018
Quick read. Entertaining.
August 3, 2018
Kept my interest; quick read
September 11, 2018
This was an insightful view into grief and loss, particularly of a young boy and his father.
April 16, 2019
I really liked this book a lot. It’s told from a small boys perspective, Sebby. His mother dies in an accident and he and his family are dealing with it.
January 25, 2020
Beautifully heartbreaking.
December 3, 2021
Heartbreaking. An eight year old’s perspective of his family trying to heal in the wake of tragedy.
July 24, 2023
I couldn’t put my tears away reading this book. Hauntingly sad, the type of sadness where your heart aches.
August 29, 2025
Survivng grief as a child…an autistic child at that. Nicely written.
January 20, 2025
3,5* Sebastian é uma criança especial (com Síndrome de Asperger) e é pela sua voz que após a morte da sua mãe, nos transmite de forma tocante e comovente todo o seu mundo interior. Este é um livro de uma sensibilidade muito especial, mas que não será do agrado de todos
September 24, 2008
I just couldn't shake the feeling that I'd read this book somewhere before...only it was set in England and it was called The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night. Only the kid in Mark Haddon's best-seller was a 15-year old autistic savant, and the one in this book is an 8-year old who has just lost his mother and has a father on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The book is written in the first person, from Sebby's (Sebastian) point of view. So, obviously everything is supposed to be child-like and innocent, but in my continuing belief that children are smarter and more observant than adults given them credit for - I felt as if Brinkman's portrayal of Sebby suggested developmental disabilities - beyond those caused by his emotionally unavailable parents (perhaps he is supposed to have Asperger's - though this is never stated outright, and Sebby is certainly not receiving any help in this regard). Plot-wise, the book follows Sebby in the months following the loss of his mother - clearly the one person in his life that he truly loves and who he believes cares about and understands him. Slowly, through the book, the true nature of his mother's death is revealed (though one can pretty much guess the circumstances after about 10 pages). Sebby's father takes him away to a vacation home for some much needed healing - but then does nothing to assist Sebby is facing reality and dealing with his issues. Sebby's two older siblings seem to care deeply about him - and repeatedly wish that he would stop acting so weird - but are ill-equipped to do anything to address his desperate need for a psychologist - a representative from Child Protective Services does appear at one point, but perhaps in an honest commentary about CPS in this country - asks a bunch of questions and then does nothing. This is most definitely a story about a family and a little boy spiraling into the depths of depression and mental illness, but sadly without any hope at the end. It all just kept getting worse and worse, and I was most shocked to reach the end and find that Sebby had not actually committed suicide. Brinkman raises and half-way explores a number of incredibly important issues - particularly when set in the life of a child - but she does little to present solutions or anything beyond complete despair.
November 29, 2008
I didn't know much about Up High in the Trees when I ordered it from Amazon, nor when I began reading it. I chose the book because I had read posts by Kiara Brinkman on The Nervous Breakdown a while back and remembered liking them. When I heard she had a book out I ordered it purely based on that. So I was delighted to find that I actually liked the book.
Up High in the Trees isn't a typical novel. It's told in vignettes from the viewpoint of 8-year-old Sebastian Lane, whose mother has just died. Because I hadn't read the cover of the book, I first thought Sebby was autistic. He takes note of a lot of colors and intricate details of spaces. He also likes to sit under tables, in closets or curl up in small, dark places. It isn't until a few chapters in that we learn this is a coping reaction to his mother's death (this isn't a spoiler! The cover talks about his mother's death). Sebby learns to cope in other ways and even begins making new friends as the book moves forward. At the same time his dad has some type of breakdown and Sebby and his older brother and sister have to fend for themselves for awhile.
This book was particularly interesting to me because it takes place in the fall and covers an election year (1992, when Bill Clinton was first elected). I read the Halloween scene on Halloween and the election part near the election so it made it seem that much more real. Anyway, I don't feel like I've really done a great job of explaining this book. I enjoyed this novel because it was so different than other books I've read this year, mostly because the voice throughout is that of an 8-year-old, which makes it pretty unique. I enjoyed being in the mind of an 8-year-old for a couple of days. I think Brinkman did a great job of conveying how confused a child can be about something as tragic as a death, especially when everyone tries to help the child by keeping things from him/her. This book shows how a child might use their imagination to make up a different reality when the facts are lacking in his life.
Up High in the Trees isn't a typical novel. It's told in vignettes from the viewpoint of 8-year-old Sebastian Lane, whose mother has just died. Because I hadn't read the cover of the book, I first thought Sebby was autistic. He takes note of a lot of colors and intricate details of spaces. He also likes to sit under tables, in closets or curl up in small, dark places. It isn't until a few chapters in that we learn this is a coping reaction to his mother's death (this isn't a spoiler! The cover talks about his mother's death). Sebby learns to cope in other ways and even begins making new friends as the book moves forward. At the same time his dad has some type of breakdown and Sebby and his older brother and sister have to fend for themselves for awhile.
This book was particularly interesting to me because it takes place in the fall and covers an election year (1992, when Bill Clinton was first elected). I read the Halloween scene on Halloween and the election part near the election so it made it seem that much more real. Anyway, I don't feel like I've really done a great job of explaining this book. I enjoyed this novel because it was so different than other books I've read this year, mostly because the voice throughout is that of an 8-year-old, which makes it pretty unique. I enjoyed being in the mind of an 8-year-old for a couple of days. I think Brinkman did a great job of conveying how confused a child can be about something as tragic as a death, especially when everyone tries to help the child by keeping things from him/her. This book shows how a child might use their imagination to make up a different reality when the facts are lacking in his life.
September 18, 2013
I really enjoyed this book. I chose it because of reviews that the narrator was a little boy with autism, like my own son. For a debut novel, Brinkman did a brilliant job. Told in fast-paced vignettes and letters, this story allows us to see into the mind of little Sebby and how he is dealing with his mother's sudden death and the aftermath of how it affects his family...all from the eyes of an eight-year-old boy with autism. Several of the reviews on this book criticize the author because she didn't flat out mention that Sebby had autism and also that she herself did not have autism therefore could not authentically pose as a narrator with the diagnosis. As a mother of a son who has autism, I can assure you that the author is pretty spot on when it comes to portraying the mind of a boy with autism. Because autism is such a wide and varying spectrum that affects everyone who is diagnosed with it differently, this is actually a great example of how an eight-year-old boy on the spectrum might think and act. Some of the things Sebby did or said related quite closely to my own son and others didn't. I think Brinkman did a fantastic job with the authenticity of her narrator. In addition, for those of us familiar with the diagnosis, Brinkman didn't have to spell out that Sebby had autism, it was obvious in how he behaved. Having said that, for those who are not familiar with the diagnosis, I can understand the frustration in not having a specific reason for why Sebby is the way that he is.
January 24, 2012
Really great book...written from the perspective of autistic boy. You learn about his family (mother's death, father's problems, siblings) all through his thoughts. I would never pretend to know what goes on in the mind of an autistic kid, but the book did make me feel like I understood it better.
Review from Publisher's Weekly:
The Asperger's afflicted narrator of Brinkman's sincere, sober debut struggles to cope with his pregnant mother's recent death after she was hit by a car. Already keenly sensitive to emotional and sensory stimuli, Sebby Lane finds his mother's loss almost unbearable; he acts out at school, biting a girl on the shoulder. Sebby's father, Stephen, is nearly unable to function, and, in an attempt to help both Sebby and himself, takes Sebby to the family summer home, hoping that a change of scenery will ease their mourning. Once there, however, Stephen slips ever deeper into his misery. Sebby, however, reaches out, writing letters to his teacher and befriending two unpleasant neighbor children. Though the narrative direction is muzzy and the conclusion is saccharine with forced uplift, the cast is portrayed with keen sympathy and sensitivity-no easy task with a young, on-the-spectrum narrator. Told in brief poetic vignettes, the novel moves quickly and episodically, like a series of snapshots from the camera of Sebby's unique mind.
Review from Publisher's Weekly:
The Asperger's afflicted narrator of Brinkman's sincere, sober debut struggles to cope with his pregnant mother's recent death after she was hit by a car. Already keenly sensitive to emotional and sensory stimuli, Sebby Lane finds his mother's loss almost unbearable; he acts out at school, biting a girl on the shoulder. Sebby's father, Stephen, is nearly unable to function, and, in an attempt to help both Sebby and himself, takes Sebby to the family summer home, hoping that a change of scenery will ease their mourning. Once there, however, Stephen slips ever deeper into his misery. Sebby, however, reaches out, writing letters to his teacher and befriending two unpleasant neighbor children. Though the narrative direction is muzzy and the conclusion is saccharine with forced uplift, the cast is portrayed with keen sympathy and sensitivity-no easy task with a young, on-the-spectrum narrator. Told in brief poetic vignettes, the novel moves quickly and episodically, like a series of snapshots from the camera of Sebby's unique mind.
Want to read
November 19, 2012Overall, I enjoyed this book and it was a FAST read!
I finished it in a week - which is remarkable, having a newborn and all!
I believe this is the authors first novel, and at points in the story you can tell. The novel is set in 1991 and the author tries too hard to make relevant cultural references ~ when really the story doesn't hing on the timeframe. The story could have taken place in 2008 ot 1968 - it would not have mattered.
But she created a wonderful character in Sebby - you want to jump in the book and give him a hug! She did a great job of capturing an 8 year-olds "voice" - he is a well developed character who makes you laugh and makes you want to cry.
The father character could have been developed a little better ~ I didn't know enough about him to care about him. I would have like to have seen a little more background on him, or felt his loss more deeply. I wanted to know what kind of father he was - not just the father he is now.
The ending seemed a bit rushed, although I enjoyed how it ended. It is an interesting story and I enjoyed entering Sebby's world and getting to know how he would survive such a tramatic life event.
I would recommed it ~ and I bet Oprah would too!
I finished it in a week - which is remarkable, having a newborn and all!
I believe this is the authors first novel, and at points in the story you can tell. The novel is set in 1991 and the author tries too hard to make relevant cultural references ~ when really the story doesn't hing on the timeframe. The story could have taken place in 2008 ot 1968 - it would not have mattered.
But she created a wonderful character in Sebby - you want to jump in the book and give him a hug! She did a great job of capturing an 8 year-olds "voice" - he is a well developed character who makes you laugh and makes you want to cry.
The father character could have been developed a little better ~ I didn't know enough about him to care about him. I would have like to have seen a little more background on him, or felt his loss more deeply. I wanted to know what kind of father he was - not just the father he is now.
The ending seemed a bit rushed, although I enjoyed how it ended. It is an interesting story and I enjoyed entering Sebby's world and getting to know how he would survive such a tramatic life event.
I would recommed it ~ and I bet Oprah would too!
August 28, 2011
I would rate this a 3-4. And I'd like to play devil's advocate with all the folks who are determined that the main character, Sebby, is either autistic or has Asperger's. I've read quite a bit about autism and books by autistic authors. One of the main things that determines the difference between how their and our minds work is that they don't think in words, but rather in images. Ergo it would have been impossible for this book to exist (written in words) I tend to agree with the main review that the little boy is very precocious, yet is a child. Just for fun, I tried watching my own thoughts during the day after I finished this book. As I imagine most people's do, my thought jumped here and there, some concern about this topic, some happiness about others, concentrated when centered on work, and just wandering most of the time. I give the author a lot of credit, espeially taking on such a task for a first novel. I didn't rate it higher because the topic itself wasn't so interesting for me. But that wasn't the author's fault, and I did finish this book easilyl -as opposed to others I've been struggling with.
January 17, 2008
This story is about the aftermath of a family's tragedy, the death of the mother, told through the voice of a highly functioning autistic child.
Very smooth and moving narrative. A bit too raw for me. I was always braced for the train wreck that might have happened - not that is was graphic or negative - but you surely got the sensation that all the family members were careening - and might not recover from the loss. You weren't sure they were going to come together in the end.
Not to mention that it becomes probable that the Mom's demise might have been deliberate. Or at least the result of a spiralling depression.
There are alot of touching relationships in the novel - I really can't think of one that isn't (perhaps Jackson & Shelly's?)
The author is some one I will keep my eye on.
Very smooth and moving narrative. A bit too raw for me. I was always braced for the train wreck that might have happened - not that is was graphic or negative - but you surely got the sensation that all the family members were careening - and might not recover from the loss. You weren't sure they were going to come together in the end.
Not to mention that it becomes probable that the Mom's demise might have been deliberate. Or at least the result of a spiralling depression.
There are alot of touching relationships in the novel - I really can't think of one that isn't (perhaps Jackson & Shelly's?)
The author is some one I will keep my eye on.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 141 reviews