It’s hard for me
to put into words how this book made me feel. On one hand, the book flirts with
taboos. The storyline made me occasionally cringe, and stop reading. However, I’d
pick it back up and start again, anxious to see how the story ends. I have to
say it’s Bryn’s outstanding writing style that kept me coming back to the book.
I dare say I enjoyed her writing more than the story itself. The story simply a
catalyst weaving her gorgeous tapestry of syllables.
Bryn put me smack
dab in the middle of the dejected, uncomfortable existence of the characters. I
cannot call this a romantic love story. I had to step out of my comfort zone,
and see the world through Wavy Quinn’s eyes, the leading character in this bitter
tale. Bryn does a superb job squaring the reader firmly into Wavy’s mind. I could understand why Wavy wouldn’t speak, or
why she reacted in more feral ways than socially acceptable ones. Humans are
not cookie cutter and Bryn reminds us of that with every page turn.
I appreciated the
message this book gives to its’ readers. We don’t all live in the stereotypical
family life of 3.2 children, with loving supportive parents actually doing
their jobs as parents. We live in a world where some children don’t receive
hugs and hot meals, and someone checking their homework folders at night. Some kids
have no “real” childhood.
This book is going
in my stack of favorites. Although I may not read it again for quite some time,
the storyline was just that gritty.
Bryn showed me I still
had empathy simmering beneath my cynicism.