“‘I don’t do the impossible,’ she whispered hotly. ‘I live life as someone who is disabled. That is not worthy of any praise.’” I received this copy as an e-arc from Netgalley in return for an honest review. Mari has lived with one leg for a few years now, after contracting an infection after a limb-sparing surgery - an attempt to remove the cancer without taking the limb. During summer, she spends a week each year at Camp Chemo; a place where kids who have or have had cancer can be just kids. At Camp Chemo, her best friend is Jase. While they don’t keep in contact during the school year, each summer they settle back into familiar patterns. When circumstances necessitate that Mari change schools, she is excited that she will get to see Jase daily, but when she arrives at her new school, Jase - sorry, Jason - pretends not to know her. He has a secret to protect, after all: No-one at his school knows he had cancer as a child. This book was great. OK, sure, Jase was a bit of a dick, but who isn’t? Having cancer, trying to be a “normal” teenager when you have a history of being bullied because of being “diseased”, going to an upper class school where looks and money matter more than who you are; who wouldn’t be worried about what people think? I won’t try and excuse the way Jase - sorry, Jason - acted. He was a prick, and he treated Mari absolutely awfully. However, you’re not meant to like all the characters! I bet you a million that you do not get along with every single person that you meet. It’s just not how life works, and I have to say that I appreciate authors who put characters who are not perfect in their stories. I understand some people chose to stop reading because of Jason, and his behaviour, but personally, it was a non-issue for me. I liked that we left things not in the perfect happily-ever-after-all-is-forgiven stereotype that we so often find in books for children and teens. The messages we get from the media and movies where everything is perfect at the end - think every Disney movie, ever - is more harmful than helpful as we grow. Kati Gardner has done a wonderful service by writing characters who are flawed. I read the acknowledgement at the back of this book. I love that the author acknowledges that she is not the be all and end all of being an amputee; that she took the initiative to have the story checked by others despite being an #ownvoices cancer amputee. I also love love love the cover; it's so rare to see a person with a disability visibly portrayed on a cover. As someone with a medical background, I really appreciated the medical words without info - emesis, not puke; cardiomyopathy. It felt to me like a good way to potentially stretch the reader without being too overwhelming. This book had me reaching for my highlighter (digitally, not on my actual book - I know some people would think I was a monster for writing in actual books… but that’s another post!). The author touched on many issues that able-bodied persons may not understand, including: “‘You know, the ‘the only disability is a bad attitude’ person.’ Mari rolled her eyes. ‘To quote Stella Young, ‘No amount of a positive attitude has turned a set of stairs into a ramp.’ ‘Inspiration porn,’ Paige interjected.’” “‘I have a very different story as a mom of a cancer survivor, but I can never understand what it’s like to be a cancer survivor. I can never speak for you.’” “It’s his story.’ She shrugged.’ I don’t mind you asking me questions; it’s how you learn. It only bothers me when strangers demand to know something really intimate’” Content Warning: Medical discussions, hospital scenes, ableism #ownvoices - Cancer Survivor, amputee Rating - 5/5
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Emma Sasha Silver grew up as a normal girl – happy, healthy, secure in her place in her family – right up until she was fourteen. When a freak accident takes her sight, Emma has to learn who she is, who she wants to be, and how to get there, all over again.
Emma is blinded at an age where most teens are starting to find their own way in the world. While she is struggling to re-learn how to do the basic things in life – move around the house, dress, pour a glass of water – life and her friends keep moving onwards. For the first six months after her accident, Emma stays home, stays inside. The way the story is told, the first six months feel a little blurred, which I think was intentional. Emma isn’t living in the moment, she feels as if she’s simply existing. Slowly, with the help of her family and medical and support staff, as well as new friends she makes at a specialty school for the Blind, she begins to make her way back into a life she is actively present in. Right before Emma starts school, a girl from her class disappears. Claire is found after a number of days, dead, with no suspicion of foul play. Emma starts high school with the shadow of Claire’s death as well as her own obvious disability. We follow Emma as she attempts to make sense of her new world, tries to fit in with her old friends and classmates. There’s no big climax, no twist, no scene where our protagonist rescues the children and the dog from a burning building. Instead it is more of an internal realisation, an understanding that just because she can no longer see, Emma can still exist, and have a fulfilling life. It’s hard to review this book, without giving away the whole plot, so I will talk about the writing instead. I was surprised at how quickly I was sucked into this book. The author has a real way with words, and I found Emma’s descriptions of the world post-accident to be absorbing and compelling. I found myself annotating as I read, making notes about quotes or messages that I thought were important, such as this discussion about answering hard or awkward questions from children. When a child asked a parent how blind people could ski without being able to see, ‘The parents didn’t answer, just shushed the kids, which was wrong and stupid. What not just answer kids’ questions? The way the parents acted made us seem like unspeakable freaks. “Doesn’t it make more sense to talk?” I said, loud, in the direction of a kid I heard asking about us.’ This resonated with me. We should be answering kids’ questions, helping them to understand the world around them. If we shush them, teach them not to ask questions because “it’s impolite” or because we the adults feel uncomfortable or embarrassed, we are teaching the kids our own prejudices, our own fears and insecurities. While I enjoyed the book, there were some aspects I found less enjoyable. Despite Emma’s descriptive language, there were so many characters (7 kids in the family, plus 2 parents, plus an entire school full of students), and a lot of them faded into the background. I did find myself confused as to who was who – particularly with regards to classmates at the public high school. I wonder if this was a specific choice – a way for us as readers to realise how much we rely on sight to keep track of people; how we know more about them by seeing their emotions. Intentional or not, it was somewhat overwhelming and I did find myself simply forgetting about the side characters. Overall, I thought this was a good book. It was very much an internal growth novel, and as such won’t appeal to all readers, but the language was gorgeous and the author has a gift for description. While I can’t speak to the authenticity of the feelings and thought processes of Emma, being sighted myself, I do think it works well as a jumping off point when it comes to stepping outside of ones comfort zone. I learned a lot about Braille, and the author seems to have done good research, despite it not being (as far as I can tell) #ownvoices. Overall Rating: 3.5/5 |