This is the kind of book I would have eaten up with a spoon when I was in my early teens. The drama! The angst! The HORROR! Now that I’m older I tend to find it all a little exhausting and depressing, but since I’ve apparently pared down my reading to memoirs, paranormal romance, and YA of all varieties, I thought I’d get off my ass and read something outside of my current comfort zone.
Hey, going back to something I enjoyed a decade ago and haven’t since kinda counts as doing something new and different, right? Right? Shut up!
Ahem. So Lulu (such a lovely name!) and Merry are the titular murderer’s daughters; one afternoon, their father comes by their apartment, intimidates Lulu into letting him in (even though her mother expressly told her not to), and then stabs his estranged wife to death, gives Merry a scar on her chest that she’ll have to hide for the rest of her life, and tries to slit his own wrists. Unfortunately for everyone, he survives and goes to prison. And then the fun really begins!
For the first year or so after their mother’s death, the girls are cared for by their maternal grandmother; but then their grandma has a stroke and dies, their maternal aunt refuses to take the girls in because their his daughters, and their paternal grandmother is incapacitated and cannot care for them. So they end up in a group home. Cheers!
The book tracks Lulu and Merry from the day of their mother’s murder until their father’s eventual release from prison several decades later (oh yeah, bitch got parole). I had a somewhat…mixed reaction to the novel, which I will now break down into convenient, bulleted lists:
What I Liked
* I thought that Merry and Lulu’s reactions were very natural and well-rendered. Merry, daddy’s little favorite, the cutie, the baby, spends the rest of her life trying to appease everyone. Even though she’s frightened of her dad (dude, he tried to kill her), she goes to see him as often as she can while he’s in prison. Lulu, on the other hand, cannot forgive herself for having been the one to open the door, for having frozen when her mother screamed at her to go get help, and expresses this by cutting her father out of her life completely. Later in life, she tells everyone–including her own children–that he died in a car accident when she was small.
* Merry and Lulu’s mom was kind of a turd. I liked this, not because I like unpleasant characters, but because I thought Meyers did a good job handling Lulu’s conflicting emotions about her mom. On the one hand, Lulu flat-out didn’t like her mother, who wasn’t exactly a carbon-copy of June Cleaver: the woman didn’t cook, she sent her kids out to buy their own dinner at ridiculously young ages, and she basically forced Lulu to raise Merry for her. On the other hand, as an adult, Lulu can understand her mother’s frustrations a little better: her mom got married because she was pregnant with Lulu, and then she was trapped in a loveless relationship with a man who, obviously, was not exactly perfect husband material.
What I Didn’t Like
* The racism. This book is very, very tacitly racist. Lulu’s first serious boyfriend is a fellow med student who just happens to be Asian–and doughy, and boring in bed (not that she minds, she’s quick to point out). He quickly fades out of the picture, and her Prince Charming is, of course, white.
* There’s often this moment in books by or about white people who’ve had it rough wherein the white person in question is paired up with a minority or two and thinks bitterly, “I bet you think I’m so privileged. IF YOU ONLY KNEW.” I hate that moment. I really hate that moment. There’s this undercurrent of “HaHA! Racism isn’t as simple as you think! White people can have it hard, too!” and it drives me up the wall. It’s called intersectionality. Please read about it and then shut the fuck up.
* Merry grows up to be a parole officer, and thereby becomes some black kid’s white savior via a HELEN KELLER QUOTE.
* The way that Lulu’s daughters find out that grandpa’s in the clink? Let’s just say that it involves a hostage situation. Yeah. No, SERIOUSLY.
* Oh, and even though Merry grows up to be first a victim’s advocate and then a parole officer, she never quite grasps that her dad is a dirtbag. He never apologizes, not really–he’s always talking about how he was “just a kid” (he was 28), and drunk, and sad that his wife was using his money to buy her new boyfriends booze (that last part was probably true). He doesn’t even really apologize to Merry for stabbing her in the chest. And even though there are all the danger signs of an abusive personality–more than one person hints that Lulu’s conception was a plan on her dad’s part to keep her mother from leaving him, which is textbook–Merry just…never learns to call a spade a spade. She says that her father is a “limited person.” Uh, no, Merry, your dad isn’t “limited”: he’s got the emotional capacity of an overlarge lizard. He doesn’t love you, because he doesn’t love anyone. Accept it and move on.
So no, although there are some things I admire about this book, on the whole? Kinda schlocky, racist, sexist, and overblown. I get why younger me enjoyed stuff like this: when you’ve got that many hormones raging around in your BRANES, you need something wildly over-dramatic so that you can cry buckets and get it out of your system. Because unless you’re EXTREMELY UNLUCKY, nothing in your real life is going to provide you with the necessary stimulus for that kind of emotional release. As an adult, though? Eh. Give me a book about hobbits any day.
Recommended for: skip it.