The author created such a dark and lovely connection between an family and the natural world. But their magical power combined with the very real tangle of family loyalties and addiction made it doubly infuriating that the events of the story revolve around a second accusation of abuse against a pedophile. If the rough justice of the Buck women was such a force for good, why on earth wasn’t it handed out first time round? Did the supernatural vigilantes need Lee’s eyewitness account? What about the eyewitness account of the first victim?
Lee saw a man sexually abusing a girl. She later tells Belva she is sure about what she has seen. Why the actual fuck did she not take off into the woods and try to stop it? Why didn’t she go to the police, to the school, or make an anonymous report if her family situation made her somehow suspect? Make a ruckus, ram the gate, go on foot, see if anybody had a cell phone? Why not tell Belva and the authorities?
Men escape the legal and social consequences for their sexual abuse of young girls all the damn time. If you can magically prevent a predator from attacking again, why not do it the first time he strikes?
This was right up my alley. The depictions of humankind, or Mofos, as the crow narrator calls them, are sublime and ridiculous, rueful but loving. There were some pacing issues, especially as the story begins and also in the finale, but the book was delightful and emotionally satisfying.
This is a slow-paced, gentle story, but one that doesn’t flinch from hard truths. I found the free verse hard going at first, but discovered the deliberate pace was an excellent match for the oral history aspects to the story.
This graphic novel features watercolor illustrations that showcase the beauty of Kodi’s habitat. It’s a comforting, sweet choice for the lower elementary grades.
The pros? Some genuinely tense and exciting moments, and a labyrinthine plot. Unfortunately these aspects are largely outweighed by the negatives: the angst of the sexy, broody, secretive twenty-somethings, some stupendously banal dialogue and improbable character motivations, and a style that is all surface. The abrupt ending was super annoying.
The way the six main characters neatly paired up into three couples made me yearn to introduce them to a dating app. And some really good therapists.
The novel has a very promising setup (including an epic breakup scene); a cast of loyal, loving friends & family; and a beautifully magical setting. Lots of Encanto vibes here; this does lend the story a certain charm, but ultimately feels very derivative.
The love interest was more than a bit repellent, as he intrudes on Harlow’s space, and assumes his circumstances trump her wish for peace. The instant physical attraction made me roll my eyes, particularly since his personality didn’t seem to merit the swooning. Other contradictions drag down the story as well. (“You MUST all be here for the FAMILY MAGIC to work! Oh, your cousin’s flight was cancelled? Ah, well, she wasn’t meant to be here.” Then there was the family’s constant begging and cajoling Harlow to write a book. But once she has begun…in a way that seems clearly to be divinely inspired, the reaction is “Mi corazón, you cannot write this book!” I’d also like to ask the family’s divine patroness a few questions about her abysmal timing.
The illustrations glow, the dragon is adorable, the illustrations in the bakery are delectable. The story is quick and unserious, but its gentle message about what things are truly worthwhile is clear and relatable.