It took me a while…a few hmms, an eh, and a couple mehs…but I have finally struck gold.
Yes, I’m still talking about books.
Remember how for the past couple posts I’ve been complaining that I wasn’t sure about the books I’ve been reading, they just didn’t tug at me the way I wanted them to.
Well, I’m most definitely sure about this one:
This book…is amazing! It’s short, a quick read, emotionally exhausting in the best way, and ultimately hopeful. And I’m not ashamed to admit that it made me cry…more than once.
Even before the book starts, I mean literally on the very first page, it grabs you and refuses to let go:
“Inertia, force, mass, gravity, velocity, acceleration…cause and effect.
Liz Emerson didn’t understand any of it.
But I do.
I understand how we fall, where we fall, why we fall.
I understand her sadness and loneliness and silence, her shattered heart.
It doesn’t have to be this way, does it?
It wasn’t always this way, was it?”
I mean, seriously, how am I supposed to put a book down after reading something like that?
And, the beautiful part, it won’t let you. Every chapter is equally beautiful and heartbreaking and honest.
The story follows the family and friends of Liz Emerson, arguably one of the most popular girls at Meridian High School, in the aftermath of her decision to run her Mercedes off the road. And the story is told through the unique perspective of a long forgotten imaginary friend, who has been in the background of Liz’s life the whole time, watching the people around her and understanding everything that went through Liz’s mind.
Throughout the story, you can tell that the narrator cares deeply for Liz and doesn’t want her to feel alone, but feels helpless to stop the downward spiral that Liz has fallen into. The scenes shift back and forth between Liz’s childhood, the days and moments before she crashed her car, and the aftermath, the narrator’s way of trying to help the reader understand what happened, what drove Liz to that point. And it’s beautifully done.
And the words…oh my god, the words in this story were amazing. The entire book reads like a poem…but it’s prose…a prosem if you will. The descriptions are more than just descriptions, they plant you right in the middle of what’s happening and make you feel everything the characters are. For example, when Liz destroys her room:
“She grabbed her camera and hurled it at the wall. It smashed to pieces after making a dent in the plaster. She could feel all her little cracks widening into larger ones, faults that ran all through her, tore her apart…
Her breath caught in her throat. She took a step back and looked around her room, and an odd feeling rose within her. It always did, when she was staring at shattered things—an urge to get to her hands and knees and gather them to her. She wanted to stack them back together and make them whole again.”
The words the narrator uses to show you her perspective of the characters is just pure art:
“Monica Emerson loses her composure slowly as she walks toward the ICU. It flakes off and leaves a trail behind her, and I keep my eyes on her face. She’s still calm through the first hallway, the second, the third. But as they turn deeper into the hospital, she begins to crack.”
And the narrator’s own memories make it heartbreakingly clear how much she loves Liz and how powerless she feels to help:
“She was tired. Gravity pulled at her more aggressively than usual. When she closed her eyes, she could feel it, dragging her deeper, deeper.
I would have pulled her back. I would have saved her from falling, but she didn’t see my hand.”
And no, I’m not going to tell you what happens to Liz, you should know by now I don’t give away the ending.
But seriously, I mean…look at those words.
And, as if I haven’t already sold this book enough, I’ll leave you with this:
