Gracie’s Comments (group member since Oct 20, 2011)

Gracie’s comments from the Once Upon A Time... group.

The Darkest Side
Rumors spread like wildfire, whispered from one person to the next. Ears perk up at the sound of new gossip, especially when it pertains to the end of times. No one believes these myths; no one really listens. We self-inform ourselves with every single detail, and then we don’t do a thing. When these whispers and these exchanges began to revolve around the possibility of the Earth standing still, people began to hunt for any information possible. It was preposterous, this strange idea that our world might stop rotating on its axis and revolving around the sun. In the beginning, there were a few believers, in fact, I was one of them. However, the more this concept was talked about the fewer people thought of it as a fact. They denied this idea, because it was too complex for them to comprehend. If anybody voiced an opinion that supported this fanatical myth, they were laughed at, shunned from society. I kept quiet, so did my family. We were strong believers, because to us it made sense. We handled ourselves well, talking about it in secret and making sure we weren’t overheard. If the Earth suddenly stopped everyone and everything that wasn’t attached to bedrock would be hurtled into space. A plan to save ourselves began to develop. My family and I engineered a cellar, very far underground, that we would hide in when the day came. It was a simple idea, and it was simple to plan. However, the execution of it was far more difficult. Shovels, picks, saws, and axes became everyday items in our home. After a while a pit below our houses foundation began to take shape. We used metal rods to ensure its stability, filled chambers with food and water, and prepared for the day to come. Time passes quickly when you’re afraid, so the next few weeks zoomed by faster than I could ever imagine. The night before the presumed date, the ticking of my clock prevented sleep from overcoming me. I knew that I must go to bed, but the anticipation of tomorrow was overwhelming. So I just lied there. I wasn’t asleep; I wasn’t awake. That’s how my mom found me the next morning when she came into my room to wake me up. She could easily tell that my emotions were dulled, but she cried out to me. “You must get up. We must go below before the sun rises.” I obediently rose, and slowly went to my bedroom door. I didn’t even glance around my room, didn’t breathe in the familiar smells, I don’t think I even turned off my light. I just followed; too sleep deprived to do anything else. My soft steps barely make a sound as I descend the stairs. I can feel my father’s eyes on me as I turned the corner. He and my brother are waiting for me. The door to our safe haven has been open. My father nods to us then begins to climb down the ladder. My mom goes next, then my brother, then me. I’m in charge of latching the door, and I pause for the slightest fraction of a second before doing so. It’s going to be much different when we crawl back out; I believe that with every ounce of my being. My cheeks blush; I’m ashamed of my hesitation. I thrust the door close and lock it into place. Climbing down seems to take eternity, and my knuckles turn pale from my tight grip around the ladders’ rungs. Finally, my feet can touch the hardened earth. I’m still amazed that we were able to build this enormous cave. Although today, it almost looks like a tomb. There isn’t a clock down here, which is extremely painful. I don’t know the time of day, I don’t know when “it” is going to happen. My parents must, because a few hours later we strap ourselves to the floor. It’s supposed to keep us extra protected; just in case. Click, click, click. The buckles snap into place and silence devours the empty space. I can hear my breath echoing off the walls. We wait, but nothing happens. My eyes dart around the room, and I can literally feel the tension emanating from my mom and dad. No one dares to move; we fear all of our efforts were for nothing; we fear that we were wrong. Time passes and my stomach turns with each minute. I am the first to undo the straps protecting my body. Just as I stand up a wave of energy pulses through the ground and I tumble down. My face connects with the floor and a small groan escapes my mouth. My father shouts out to me, “you must strap yourself back in.” He pauses and a warm realization blankets me. I can’t tell if I’m terrified or relieved; It’s happening. My arms and legs cannot move faster as I struggle to return to my spot. I am secured in place when the next wave begins. This one is more forceful, and my weight shifts causing the straps to pierce into my body. Seconds pass before the next one, which is much worse than the previous. This continues, turning into a demented pattern. Suddenly, the room goes still. I shut my eyes until my vision is splotchy and mutter a prayer underneath my breath. Then a force collides with my body so hard that I my eyes pop open and my family and I scream out in unison. It hurts. I try to imagine being someplace else, but the pulsing in my head reminds me exactly where I am. We were right, and the rest of the world was wrong. I suppose that I should feel at least a little bit of satisfactory, but I cannot. Swirls of pain envelope me and the wind is knocked out my chest. Blackness clouds my vision and I pass out. When my eyes flutter open a sense of relief overtakes my body. I’m, by some miracle, still alive. My vision is still a bit blurry and my eyes take a little bit to adjust. The straps that surround my body are only still connected by threads. When I try to unlatch them they break off in my hands. I sit up and the first thing I see is the absence of my family. My eyes twitch as I look around the room. My parents and my brother aren’t in their places. In fact, the straps aren’t even there. My read slowly turns around and I catch my breath. Vomit forces its way out of my throat and onto the ground next to me. They are splattered against the wall. Everything is red. It’s gruesome and my stomach turns once more. Their straps must have broken off in all the mayhem; they must of gone flying towards the wall. My hands begin to tremble and my mouth tastes of bile. This was not our plan. We were supposed to survive together, as a family. I suddenly feel claustrophobic. My taste buds crave fresh air. We were going to stay in here for a few days, but it’s just me now. And I need to get out. I stumble towards the exit and stare up at the endless amount of space I have to climb up. Despair acts as my motivation as I take the first step up. I move fast. The need for a better reality seems to be pushing me up the ladder. I open the lock and push on the door above my head. It’s heavier than I thought it would be. My dad was always the one to open it. I push until my face is red and my muscles are sore and finally it opens just enough for me to squirm my body through. My eyes blink, readjusting to the light. I stop dead cold. I feel sick again. There is nothing in sight. No people, no houses, no street, no grass, no trees, no nothing. An endless dirt ground extends to the horizon in every place I look. I sink to my knees as tears spill over the edge of my eyes. I have never been more alone. The sun burns my skin, I can’t stay here. Ducking back into our shelter I run back down the ladder. Averting my eyes, I grab the four backpacks of supplies and rush back up to the surface. It isn’t comfortable but I can manage carrying all of them. I look up to the blinding sun; I thank God for my life and I curse him for leaving me alone. Then I begin to walk. My walk turns into a jog, which turns into a desperate sprint. I don’t know where I’m going, but for some reason I know I must go. Death hovers over me. I try to outrun it, but it’s relentless. It has taken away so many lives today; I promise myself that I will not be one of them.

I’m lonely and I try to welcome death as a friend but he refuses my invitation. I am almost gone when my rocket crashes into the sky. I am startled and confused when the rocket ship stops stuck halfway in emptiness and halfway in a place above the beyond. Looking out the window I see a street and a house and a mailbox. Opening the latch, I crawl out. I step onto the ground. The door on the house opens up and a young child walks towards me. His questioning eyes evaluate me. Then he takes me hand. He says something to me. The words sound familiar, but I don’t understand him. He’s not speaking in our language. I hand him the book. He opens it and begins to read. Then he stops and looks up at me smiling. His next words are crisp and clear, “welcome home Brynne.”

Above the Beyond
My grandfather created the experiment. The idea was simple enough, create a world below our feet full of organisms identical to the ones on our world to observe and experiment on. The council approved his idea and soon the construction of this world, Earth, began. Immediately after Earth was built and premature versions of ourselves were placed on it we began to observe what they did. Time went by faster on their world, so it was easier to see their progression over a long period of time. The people of Earth began to create civilizations and leaders began to arise. We were able to learn about our own species from the Humans on Earth and our science progressed immensely. My grandpa became one of the most famous people in our entire world. At the time we were unaware that creating Earth made our world weaker and less stable. Our world was thrust into a state of shock when the first person fell. Part of our ground crumbled under a young man’s feet and he fell down to Earth. He was a rich man who had been able to afford every medical enhancement possible, and because of this the man did not die when he landed on Earth. He was more advanced than the Humans on Earth in almost every way and when he was discovered he was worshipped as if he was a god. They made them their King and he instructed them to build him a massive tomb when he died. They began working immediately and in a time span of 10-20 years created him the largest tomb that had ever been built. When he passed away they mummified his body and placed him in this tomb, the Great Pyramid of Giza. When the council discovered what had happened they were furious. They called our world’s best engineers to try and make our world sturdier, but they were too late. Progressively, our world began to crumble beneath our feet. Many people fell to Earth, tainting the experiment. The people of our world went into a panic. We did everything in our power to not fall. Some were successful, but many weren’t. The ground was crumbling and it couldn’t be stopped. The number of victims began to rise and the countless names became a blur. However, their names were not forgotten to the Humans below; Yu, Buddha, Socrates, Aristotle, Alexander, Julius, Jesus, Muhammad, Henry, Leonardo, Christopher, Johann, Michelangelo, Benjamin, George, Isaac. The list grew constantly; there was no end. People began to accept falling as a stage in their life. Families choose to fall together, and villages prepared for the plummet to Earth. Our world was overpopulated, so people were being herded off the edge. My village was next in line. It would soon be my turn to fall.
I see the world differently than everyone else in my community. My dad is a council member; he works for the government and is almost never at home. My mother tries her best to give my brother and I a good life, but she doesn’t understand me. She can’t comprehend why I like to be alone or why I express myself in ways that won’t benefit my future. I don’t know what I want to do with my life and that drives her insane. If it were her choice she’d have every waking moment of my life planned out perfectly. She’s already mapped out my brother, Daniel’s life. All he wants is to make my dad notice him. He wants to follow in my dad’s shoes, and my mom’s helping him do just that. I guess I just don’t fit in. I’m like a puzzle piece that’s been jammed into the wrong spot; all I want is to be free. Some nights, I sneak out of my house and I paint. I paint buildings, walls, even the ground; the whole world becomes my canvas. I let the colors and patterns control me and I don’t think, I don’t feel, I just be. But if you sneak out, you have to eventually sneak back in; and when I climb back through my window and lie on my bed I’m overcome with misery. As the paint dries on my fingertips and my breath slows, I force myself to become trapped once again. I try to convince myself that I have a good life, but I’ve never been a very good liar, especially when it comes to lying to myself. Tomorrow we must fall. My mom is scared; I see it in her eyes. It’s not the falling that she fears, it’s the fact that we are falling into the unknown. I’m not going to fall; I’m going to jump. I’ve been searching for something different, some other place to call home, and I’m hoping that Earth will be the place where I belong. My father instructed my brother and I to pack a backpack with a few things we want to take with us. Technically we aren’t supposed to bring anything, we aren’t even supposed to know when it’s our time to fall. But my dad is on the council, so he becomes an exception to the rules and because we’re his family we become one also. The problem with choosing what I want to bring with me is that I don’t have many things that are truly my own. In the end, I choose to leave everything behind. Even my backpack lies empty on my bedroom floor. There is a moment right before I wake up the next morning that everything is clear; everything is empty. It’s like the silence right before a storm comes, but it doesn’t last more than a few seconds. When my eyes shoot open I’m hit with the realization that today I leave my home behind and start a new life in a new place. I can smell a warm breakfast emanating from the kitchen; my mother is cooking our last meal in this house. I slowly get out of my bed and tiptoe down the hallway barely letting my feet touch the ground. I don’t want to spend my last morning sitting at a table attempting to make small talk while awkward silences suffocates me. I need to go outside and walk around; I need to soak up the familiarity of this place, because that will be something I’m deprived of for a while. As I’m on my way to the backdoor I pass my father’s study. When I was younger I used to sneak in that room late at night after my dad had gone to bed; I would sit in his chair and read one of his books even though I didn’t understand them. My fingertips brush the cold metal doorknob and without a thought I turn it open. I can hear my father’s voice coming from the kitchen, but it doesn’t falter. I open the door the rest of the way and step inside, closing the door quietly as I tentatively step towards his desk. I inhale the scent of old books and step towards the bookshelf that covers one of the walls. My fingers run across the books as I walk until I feel cool leather under my fingertips. I stop and pull the book out of the shelf. It was my favorite. I never understood what it was about but it was different from all the other books; it reminded me of myself. I open it to the middle and the musky scent envelopes me. My eyes scan the text, the words still as unfamiliar to me as they were when I was little. It’s in a language different from the one on our world. Someone, somewhere knows what it says, what it means; but to me, it looks like gibberish. I pause listening to my father in the kitchen. He seems to be in the middle of a story; I don’t have to leave yet. I continue walking past the books and toward his desk. When I reach his desk chair I sit down and close my eyes remembering my childhood. My eyes flutter back open and focus in on a file thats been caught in one of the desk drawers. Curiosity takes over and I try to open the drawer. It’s jammed, so i pull harder. Finally the drawer shoots open spilling the file onto the ground. Immediately I fall to the ground. Glancing at the door I pick up the papers putting them back into the file. I don’t hear anyone coming, so I slow my pace. By habit my eyes skim the text. I stop cold and my eyes go wide with fear. Picking up more pieces of paper I read each one slowly and carefully. These papers must be confidential, I shouldn’t be reading them, but I can’t stop. The humans on Earth have developed beyond what was expected. We must terminate the experiment immediately and overpower them. We must collapse our world. Once we have all fallen to Earth we will make them our slaves and take power over their world. I read and reread trying to comprehend what this all means. There is a diagram of our world. Someone had drawn a red x through the villages that have already fallen to Earth. My eyes grow big as the realization hits me; when people fall off our world it isn’t an accident. We’re being herded off the edge of our world on purpose. Innocent people are going to be forced into slavery, and my own father is a part of it. I’m not sure how to react. My stomach flips and I stand up. The papers fall out of my hands and flutter to the floor. I’m no longer concerned about picking them up. I swing the door open and walk down the hallway. I don’t know what to think, so I don’t think at all. I walk straight through the kitchen, straight towards the front door. “Byrnne, do you have everything ready to go?” I turn to face my mom and stare at her, cocking my head. “Honey is everything okay?” I can detect the slightest amount of worry in her voice, but I say nothing. I simply turn towards the door once more and continue walking. I can feel my family’s eyes on my back as I open the front door. They must be too confused to stop me, because they never say a word as I step outside and close the door behind me. I walk out of our driveway and away from a house that was never my home. I am unaware of the anger building inside of me until I can literally feel it pulsing through my veins. Jumping or even falling towards Earth is no longer an option for me, and just because the council is destroying our world on purpose doesn’t change the fact that it’s still going to crumble. I can’t stay here, I can’t go down. I’m truly out of options. A fanatical idea crosses my mind. I could go up. It’s so foolish I almost laugh, almost. Then the idea begins to develop in my brain, and it starts to sound more and more realistic. I know where to find a rocket ship. In fact, there’s one in storage right outside of town. I could escape the crumbling world and the cruelty that will occur on the world below. I could fly until it ran out of fuel and then I could simply float. Time and space would cease to exist until death took me away. It sounded like a daydream, and the more I thought about it the more I was determined to make it my reality. I began to walk faster. I had a purpose now; I had a destination. The walk from the end of my driveway to the storage cell turned into a haze. I had no thought, only action. The rocket appeared all at once. At first I only saw it as a speck on the horizon, but the speck grew fast and soon I could see every detail on the rocket’s outer shell. It wasn’t guarded; there wasn’t a soul in sight. There was no need; no one had used a rocket for many years,. It was easy enough to find the hatch, and it was easy to climb inside. One of the books I used to read was a manual on how to operate something very similar to this machine. I strained to think back to it now. I could only remember parts of it, but that was enough. I strapped myself in and started the rocket. I counted down the seconds until blast off just like they used to do. 3…2…1…I was thrust forward so fast and so hard that I was sick to my stomach. A crooked smile had found its way onto my face. Pure shock established itself in my mind; I had actually done it. It was stupid, ridiculous, insane, and incredibly amazing. I was going up, towards absolutely nothing, and I had no idea why. I had been tempted by the easiness of this, the simplicity of simply going to nowhere in particular. I don’t worry about my family; they’ll find their place on Earth. It’s just me and the universe. I fly in that rocket ship for weeks, maybe months. Time is nonexistent and I soon lose track of it, it’s not important anymore. I eat, I sleep, I be. The leather book somehow came with me, so I read it over and over again. Each time I read it I make up a new meaning for the words, a new story that it tells. I become lost in myself and the emptiness devours my soul.

Dust
It’s always dark in my world. My eyes have adjusted to it. Sometimes, during the day, the smallest amount of light will sneak under the cellar door and snake towards me barely illuminating the room. Shadows dance across the walls, and I can see. I see the outline of shapes and the room becomes vast and mysterious. There’s never enough to see details, never enough to see color, but this light is my only hope. My utter existence is a defiant act against the law; I’ve been illegal since the day I was born. When I was little, every night my mom would tell me a story. It was always the same one, about a world when new babies were born every day; where everyone had their time to live and their time to die. Then a panacea was invented and the world began to rapidly overpopulate for there was no death. Laws were established, laws were enforced, and eventually the birth of new children stopped altogether. My mom would kiss my head, tuck me in, and tell me that I was the exception; that I was a miracle. My ears twitch at the sound of footsteps above me. First there is one pair, then two, then three, and then there are too many for me to count. A hurricane of thumps rain down on me. I can hear muffles, barely audible through the thick cement that surrounds the cellar. Then the doors open. At first I am overjoyed; my mom has come to get me, I'm going to be free. But she doesn't come, in her place are men filing into the cellar, guns pointed at the air that surrounds me. I have been prepared for something like this, but I never thought I would need to be. In an Earth shattering moment I take my first tentative step towards the doors. I quicken my pace and sprint as fast as I can to the other side of the room. I swing the doors open and take my first step outside. The first bullet hits the wall, their aim is off. The men can't see in the dark, but I can. My mother catches sight of me and with tears filling her eyes, she mouths a single word; Go. I swivel my body around and take off towards the train tracks like I was told to. The maps I was told to memorize sweep over my mind and serve as my only guide. Shouts emanate from behind me, but I ignore them. Bullets fly past me, missing their mark every time. Soon, tears begin to fly off my face as I think of my family, as I think of my mom. Then, amidst it all, a crooked smile finds its way onto my face. I'm outside. I am free. The train tracks appear before I expect them to, flooding my vision with excitement and hope. When I first arrive, the train is barely peaking above the horizon. The men are still in pursuit, but they are slower. They sweep a bright light over the ground as they run which is both frightening and fascinating. The train is getting closer, but so are the men. My heart beat fills my chest and I can feel it pounding in my head. The train sweeps past me and my hair is blown across my face blinding me for a few seconds. The wind sways my body and I start to run beside the train. There is a half way filled train car beside me. It's not my first choice but the train is almost at its end. With one solid motion I fling myself into the car landing hard on a pile of coal. Pain envelopes my shoulder, but I'm okay. I've made it on the train to freedom, and it's taking me away. I move to the opening, dangling my feet off the edge of the train car as my body adjusts to the soft black rock I'm sitting on. Black dust coats my body and wind torments my hair. I look across the sky, seeing the infinitive distance the outside world devours. Then, on the edge of the world, a small light consumes the darkness. It grows, getting bigger and brighter. My eyes sting, but I cannot look away. I don't know where this train will take me but I hope we're going to the light. I hope I can ride this train all the way to the sun.

The Human Zoo
I’m caged in, on display. Their eyes constantly bore into me, always wanting to more. If I sleep, if I rest, if I simply turn the wrong way I become classified as “the boring exhibit”. That makes them leave, which gives me the slightest amount of privacy, but when you're in a cage, privacy gets a whole new definition. As big as the want for privacy is, there’s something about them flocking around your cage that’s desirable, so we want to be interesting; or at least interesting enough. It’s sad, that the only thing that makes us happy anymore is attention.
When the first human zoo was created, humans fought against the new dominant species on Earth. We were outraged, and we fought back in rebellion. The human race had always been at the top, had been in control; so when this new power came to our world the anger and unfamiliarity fueled our rebellion. Now, it seems like we’ve given up. No one fights back; no one does anything. We play by their rules; we let them force us into cages; we let this life become our normal. Abused like animals, the white flags have been raised and we have surrendered our normal and our lives to them. The cold metal bars that surround me are a constant reminder of this defeat.
Closing time is coming soon, the time of peace and serenity; or at least something close to that. I walk towards my shelter where I sleep at night. It’s cold and hard, it’s a form of brutality that no one notices but us. There are a few stragglers left in the park. One of the kids, if that’s what you would call them, bangs on the bars and screams out in my direction. I stay still though. I’m done with the attention for today. My eyes peep out of a loose board and watch as the things mother drags him away from my cage. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
The front gates are locked, the lights go out, and the zoo workers seem to come from nowhere. The Human Zoo is closed for the night; that translates to feeding time for the humans. The zoo workers disperse, each one going to one of our cages. I hear a jingling noise and the latch of my cage is lifted. The man who has come to bring me my food takes tentative steps, as if he’s afraid of me. I guess he hasn't realized that I’m not going to fight him; I don’t care anymore. He sets my food on the ground and scatters out the door. He must be gone because silence envelopes me. My stomach begins to growl at me, and I roll my eyes. I don’t want to eat their food; but I’m hungry so I pick myself up and stomp over to the bowl of slop. A strong odor emanates from the food and I turn away. When I do this something catches my eye.
Whoever brought me my food must have been rushing on their way out because my door isn’t all the way closed. My breath quickens and my eyes nervously scan the area. No one is in sight. The first step towards the door crunches the hay beneath my feet making a sound that echoes in my head. I continue forward and reach the door in a matter of seconds. My hand shakes as I place it on the cold metal. The door swivels with ease. A drop of sweat drips down my face and nervousness consumes my body. I shove away the hesitation, open the cage’s door, and place my feet on the gravel. I know where the zoo’s entrance is. I’ve watched the onlooker’s race to and from it countless times. With the hope that the employees are tending to the other humans I snake my way to the front gates. They’re locked. I don’t have a key. I turn around with the fear that someone is watching me but the walkway is vacant. There is a spot to my left, where the ground underneath the fence has eroded away. I look down at my body. It looks like I could fit. I scamper over to the spot and get on my knees. I’ve seemed to have caught the attention of the humans in the cage right behind me. They stick their hands out between the bars and try to grab at me. Their whispers beg me to take them with me, but I don’t have time. I brush them away and thrust my body underneath the fence. It’s a tight fit, but it’s a fit. I make it through. My head turns back to see the zoo workers once again flooding the path. I’m blanketed by the darkness; no one sees me; no one even looks my way.
I slowly rise, feeling dazed and exited. Then I turn and run. My feet take traction in the hard dirt and I fly across the ground. I feel fast and I feel free. Maybe there is a little rebellion out there; maybe it’s in all of us. All I know is that it’s time for a change. The tortured animal inside of me has just been freed, and it knows exactly how to make that change happen.

Did this remind anyone of the TV show, The Bachelor (last season)? There was a "Courtney", and a lot of the personality's were very similar. Anyone agree?

Also the ending was fabulous! I LOVE that it ended half way through the competition!!!!

This book was, at least to me, absolutely amazing. And not because of the concept, that reminded me a little too much of Wither and The Bachelor, but because of the AMAZING AUTHOR. I couldn't put this book down....which is the first book to do this is WAY to long. Very very very good writing skills! W-O-W!

This book was good, very good. That being said I almost feel guilty giving it four stars because I am absolutely in love with DIVERGENT, however this book took me WAY to long to read. I bought this book the day it came out, and the fact that i couldn't get into it and had no DESIRE to read it really upset me. I give this book 4 stars because of a few reasons both good and bad.

GOOD
1. The first book was so extremely good.
2. The author is very good.
3. The last 200 pages were INCREDIBLE.
4. I love the concept.
5. She finally included the world-building she was missing in the series.

BAD
1. It took me too long to finish.
2. The ending wasn't clear enough.

The good, obviously, over rides the bad. I had such high hopes for this book, and I wish so badly that I would of been able to read this in one night, even if that meant staying up until 1:00 to do that. If I had been able to do that, this book would of probably gotten 5 stars. However, that is not the case so because of my guilt, hopes, and "what if's" this book earned 4 stars (even though it probably didn't deserve it).

What is anyones opinions about doing series books?

Alright, you guys voted for The Selection this month!!! Somehow get hold of this book and read fast so we can DISCUSS it!

Wow, that is great!!! Is that just part of a story? Because if it is I would LOVE to read the rest of it!!!

Find a book that's author's first name is your first name

Yazmin

This must be a great book because I havent been able to get my fingers on it....does anyone own it?

Alright, you guys voted for Legend this month!!! Somehow get hold of this book and read fast so we can DISCUSS it!

12/15/11
Dear whoever cares enough to read this,
........Crank by Ellen Hopkins is one of those books where you have to wonder why you liked it. A twisted memory from Ellen’s warped brain is revealed to us as we read on and become addicted to this horrid tale. This story is about a young girl who has to grow up too fast. She comes face to face with the monster, Meth. Soon addicted to this drug, she comes home and has to fight her biggest problem yet, herself. A girl with two personalities, facing drugs (and boys), and having to choose between the people living inside of her you may begin to wonder why this book is so appealing. It’s all because of Ellen’s unique style and the fact that everyone can relate, at least a little bit.
........This book’s most luring attribute is the main characters, Kristina and Bree. These two people shock us, because they both live inside of one person. In Crank, Kristina is struggling to quell Bree, the girl that is the most ambitious part of her.
........Life is full of
...............................choices
........We don’t
........always
...............................make
........good ones.
........It seems to
...............................Kristina
........you gotta
........be
...............................crazy
........to open your
........windows,
........invite the
........demons in.
...............................Bree
........throws rocks
........at the feeble
........glass,
...............................laughs (Hopkins 83).
This passage seems to show that Bree is destructive to Kristina. Many people think that while Kristina is trying to make the right choices, Bree is being counter productive and making all the bad ones. We never really know who the real main character is. It might be Bree, Kristina, or an odd mixture of them both. They may be complete opposites, but they are the same person. As it says in Crank, “Bree was not an invention, not a stranger. Bree was the essence of me” (Hopkins 234). That is one of the main draws to this book, but many people don’t get it. They think that Bree is a bad person and that Kristina is perfectly innocent. I don’t believe that. I think that they are both to blame for the things that happen to her throughout the book. Bree has some good traits just like Kristina, and Kristina has some bad traits just like Bree. A happy medium would be the perfect way to be for the main character of this book. But that’s the problem; there is no happy medium. It’s always one person trying to overpower the other. I believe that if they understood and worked as one, instead of two, she wouldn’t have as many problems. As Kristina and Bree develop throughout the book they grow farther and farther apart, which is what causes all of Crank’s chaos.
........The resolution of Kristina/Bree’s problem, or the fact that there really isn’t one, makes this book very unique. This book does have a resolution; I just don’t believe that her problem will ever really be solved. At the end of the book it seems as if everything is wrapping up quite nicely. However at the end when Ellen writes, “I only know one thing that can make me laugh again. Crank is more than a drug. It’s a way of life. You can turn your back. But you can never really walk away. The monster will forever speak to me. And today, it’s calling me out the door” (Hopkins 537) it contradicts this. This is the ending of Crank, but it’s also the beginning of its sequel, Glass. I believe that this foreshadows that she isn’t really over her problem, and everything is not going to turn out ok. I find this extremely interesting. It’s very hard to come across a book that doesn’t have a happy ending, but Crank is one of the only exceptions to this rule. This may be arguable, but how can it be a happy ending if instead of solving her problems the main character creates more? I don’t think it can be, but I think that that’s a good thing. If her main problem was solved then this book would be predictable, common, and not as good. While her struggle with drugs may be paused for the moment, it’s definitely not over.
........The content of this book is a major draw to readers, but Ellen Hopkins’s style is what puts this book in the reader’s hands. Each poem in this book is written differently, but the entire book is in free verse. Because every poem is in a different style the book never gets boring, and because the book is in free verse the reader doesn’t feel like he/she is reading a poetry book.
................Skeletal liner, jaundice yellow,
................evil little breezes up the nose.
........One
................inhale, awesome, mean, tiny
................hammer blows to the brain, and I
................didn’t care who knew that
........I was high,
................(well, okay, I preferred clueless cops)
................not Dad, who would be home
................soon. He’d want one or
........two
................himself. Not the people next door,
................who I’m pretty sure kept an ear
................to the wall, waiting to see if
........I would fly,
................or attempt, like our wingless lynx,
................to defy all instinct and natural
................law, ball up courage, count to
........three
................and crest the edge in one mighty
................leap. Or maybe she did just fall.
................I wonder, as I wonder if
........I,
................locked in a cage of dreamless sleep,
................a place where only the monster
................can drop you so hard,
........heard the cry
................of a fallen
......................broken
..........................bird (Hopkins 176).
This is my favorite type of poem that is in Crank. I think that this specific poem does a great job of showing the author’s style. It’s in free verse, which shows a greater depth to this story. This makes it feel more like a completely true story. The double meaning makes you have to think about and comprehend what this book is really about. And, it’s depressing in an almost relatable way, which is a key signature of hers. The style of Crank is perfect, without it I believe that this book would not be able to reach it’s maximum potential.
........As I read this book the thing that mind-boggled me the most was that she knew the drug was destructive and yet she kept using it. I know that people can become extremely addicted, but I would hope that you would at least have some will power to stop. Apparently that’s the exact opposite. As she says, “Funny thing about the monster. The worse he treats you, the more you love him” (Hopkins 161). To me, this seems backwards. She seems to know how Meth is affecting her, but she’s not really doing anything drastic to try and change. She’s loosing herself, and becoming different. As the story goes on, Kristina begins to loose the battle with not only drugs, but with Bree as well. You want to feel bad for her, but you don’t feel like you should because she is being self-destructive. You wonder why she is doing this, but that leads you to think about what you would do if you were in her shoes. It’s hard to tell if you would have enough fight in you to power through a Meth addiction. I know that most people can’t, but you hope that you wouldn’t be like them. Kristina seems normal and enough like yourself in the beginning of the book that you don’t understand how she could change so quickly. I think that she didn’t ever really care about getting over the addiction. I think that, had she been dedicated, she would have been able to stop doing meth. Or maybe, she wouldn’t have started it in the first place.
........Even though you might not at first understand why you liked the book Crank, all it takes is a little thinking to figure it out. The unique way that Kristina/Bree develops throughout the book, the fact that there isn’t really a resolution to her problem, Ellen Hopkins’s style, and the strange things that meth does to the main character all make this book stand out among others. This twisted tale grabs you from start to finish. In an almost hypnotic way, Kristina’s strange journey to finding Bree and for some reason Meth makes you addicted…to this book.

........................Yours truly,
................................Gracie





Hopkins, Ellen. New York, New York: Margaret K. McElderry, 2004. Print.

i believe so...but im not 100% positive.....

Or the selection looks really good too...

I want to read READY PLAYER ONE, it looks really good!