Forsythia Phlox

This may be something of a ramble with leanings toward a rant, but I have a lot of conflicting emotions to unpack about this book. On the surface, it's beautiful. It has gorgeous prose and an amazing cover and there are so many questions which keep you reading in seek of answers. But beneath the surface, there's pitting from weak plot threads and stains from lost trains of thought. The emphasis on description eventually becomes droll. The tiptoeing around what's troubling Marin eventually becomes obnoxious, since we're inside her head and there's no true reason for it to take so long to reveal the answers to important questions like what happened to her.

Marin's guilt issues are obnoxious sometimes, as well. In the past, she beats herself up over “making her grandpa sad” when she asks an extremely reasonable question of whether any baby pictures exist of herself. You'd think that she had called him a terrible person for not saving any, instead. But no. A simple question, which should have a simple answer, and she acts like she's a monster for ever asking in the first place. It's ridiculous.

I also found it difficult to empathize when she waxes poetic about how much she misses her old belongings, since it's her own fault they're gone. She's the one who threw away having a real home and ran off. She's the one who didn't care enough about those things to preserve them. She's the one who betrayed the person closest to her by ignoring concerned texts. She's the one who decided to wallow uselessly in self-pity and stay in crappy hotels instead of accepting a loving home openly and freely offered. There's a point where I just wanted to scream at Marin that she needs to grow up because she did this to herself.

I also hated that, after feeling empathy for Marin through the beginning of the book, things began falling apart and she became less and less relatable toward the middle. At the end, it's revealed via flashback that she's the kind of person who throws away an otherwise perfectly good set of clothes just because they'd been worn too much and she was concerned about making a bad impression on her new roommate with stinky attire. So she spent three hundred bucks on school-branded attire and threw her old clothes away instead of just tossing them aside so a poorer student could find and claim them, washing them later and keeping them, or outright donating them. That moment really took me out of liking Marin, because it's such a gross display of privilege and she surrounds it with fretting over how eventually she'll run out of the mass of money her dead grandpa she hates so much for lying to her left... Well, maybe stop pissing away money and just buy a can of body spray instead. Jeez.

Also, I got sick of how she seems incapable of going five seconds without mentioning Jane Eyre. I know rabid fangirls who are better than her when it comes to desperately trying to relate every aspect of life to her favourite book. And maybe in those five, shining seconds of not talking or thinking about Jane Eyre, she could also stop mentally begging Mabel to ask her about things she wants to say and then stop trailing off halfway all “nevermind I can't do this” after starting to tell one of the only plot-like stories in this book. There's mystery and then there's being obnoxiously secretive and the line gets crossed several times. Of course, then when it finally does come out, the reveal is so... anti-climactic. The event itself which apparently so deeply traumatized Marin is so dull.

All these emotions. All these hints at some sinister darkness. All the time spent wondering what kind of horrible, awful thing happened to Marin to make her feel so lost and so uncomfortable in her own skin that she ghosted her friend/girlfriend and fled to the other side of the country...

And it turns out, Marin has been a whiny, little brat about finding out her grandfather suffered a mental illness and kept secrets from her. Whiny enough to wonder if something as simple as a Christmas memory of decorating the tree was real or tainted by lies. (Protip: you can't lie that you're putting an ornament on a tree when you are literally putting an ornament on a tree and you can't taint a dialogue-free memory of sitting around said tree with lies that aren't being spoken.) And of course, she throws away a home, a family, a life all because she can't handle the idea of facing things she literally does not ever have to face. Nobody's telling her to go live in the house where the frankly not-so-bad thing happened (nobody was murdered, molested, raped, attacked, etc. it was just an emotionally bad thing). Hell, at one point, Mabel - the ex-girlfriend, sorta vaguely still best friend - begs her to just visit for Christmas break, and Marin is an ass about that.

Oh, she just can't possibly do it. Why not? Nobody knows. The way it's written, Marin is just plain stupid and self-centered. “Oh, I can't possibly go with Mabel, but oh I'll be so horribly lost without her.” “Oh, I can't possibly go back there, but oh I'm so worried and sad and distraught about all the things I willingly left behind and wondering what happened to them.” At some point, it stops being relatable as anxiety or grief and just starts inducing this feeling of ‘shut the fuck up, Marin, and grow up; if you miss things, go back to them, or else accept the consequences of your choices.' I think that's because the author is trying a little too hard to express thoughts logically when they're not supposed to be logical. Grief, anxiety, depression: these things cause irrational thoughts and actions. But in locking in on “oh I can't” instead of exploring the true struggle of desperately wanting to go, being terrified of returning, wanting to say yes but being seized by panic... we just get Marin constantly whining that she can't return. And being a horrible, entitled brat with regards to how her grandfather handled his grief while clearly influenced by some sort of mental illness.

How can she be such a terrible, cold-hearted person about her grandfather keeping photos of her mom away from her? Those were his property and he was clearly living in denial so strong that he couldn't face talking about the fact she was dead or sharing those memories with Marin. Yes, it hurt her. But, no, she was never entitled to him breaking his own heart open to talk to her about her mom or share his personal photos. And she of all people - the girl who ghosted everyone who still cared about her and ran off to the other side of the country just so she could live in denial - should be capable of understanding that sometimes you just can't face the source of grief. But nope, she's whining about how she was so entitled to have her grandfather share those memories with her within three pages of refusing to even visit Mabel for Christmas because boo hoo I can't go back there. The hypocrisy is infuriating and confusing and ugh.

I find this so peculiar, since all other aspects of the emotional handling show that Nina LaCour is a talented writer who's perfectly capable of portraying panic and soul-crushing sadness and the kind of bone-deep depression which makes a person not even want to get out of bed or be around other humans. Then we reach the end, and it's as if a resolution is provided but she needs to fill more space in the book so she has Marin artificially keep clinging to denial after admitting aloud and to herself what truly happened. She has Marin keep acting entitled, even after feeling the weight of denial and grief herself. We get a lacklustre reveal of a mediocre plot point, and still Marin doesn't change at all for having admitted the truth. Nothing changes. She's still a horrible friend, she's still self-absorbed and self-pitying and keen on blaming her grandfather for his obvious mental illness. It isn't until the very end of the book where we get any change, and at that point it just feels like more artificial, forced plot for the sake of tying it all up in a little bow and promising that things will be okay eventually.

Except Marin doesn't change herself. She doesn't drag herself out of grief and she doesn't overcome anything. She remains a hermit and the people she betrayed and hurt come running back to her with open arms to give her company when she chose solitude. That, to me, isn't overly hopeful of a message. It's more like a Lifetime Movie ending to force some happiness into a bleak, depressing experience. It's not a message about overcoming and surviving and moving on with life after facing a great loss; it's a message about just waiting around and continuing to hide from one's problems, and if the people you've hurt care enough about you they'll come crawling back to make your life a little brighter again regardless.

I also very much disliked that out of the blue, the dynamic between Mabel and Marin changed and suddenly created this awkward and out-of-place scene where Mabel teased Marin about potential crushes. Or that the very end is Marin finally agreeing to live with Mabel's family not because she's loved and not because of them as individuals and the true kindness they've shown all her life but rather because being hugged by Mabel's mother gave her a brief flash of memory about her own and she decided to chase that feeling and use Ana as her replacement mother.

It's just... meh. The book begins strongly. It has this beautiful writing and these entrancingly melancholy glimpses into a troubled mind. But by the middle, it becomes obvious that it's all just pathetic melodrama and not something as huge or as insidious as the reactions might imply. Then at the end, all of that is tossed away to put a magic fix into place and go ah, yes, everything is perfect again now when really nothing at all has been resolved and the main mysteries and questions are still left with only vague half-answers at best. Judging by how this book came to exist, as explained in the acknowledgments, I can see why it started out so beautifully atmospheric then petered out to the now everything will be totes okay again all the sudden ending. I've been there before, myself; when you're writing from a place of your own grief and sadness, there comes a point where you just want to make it all stop and put a happy ending on and be done with it. Maybe I'm wrong, and maybe the author had very different reasons for ending this book as she did, but that's the impression I get.

All the same, I expected so much more from this book and honestly I feel somewhat let down by it. Were it not for the amazing representation provided for bisexual women and lesbians, I'm not sure I'd have even given this four stars. It's closer to three otherwise, and even those come from mostly the first quarter to half of the book and not the entire thing.

But the representation really is good. It touches on fear of homophobia without being too heavy-handed. It touches on confusion without being overly dramatic. It touches on the fact that it's entirely possible to be bisexual and still monogamous. And overall, it treats these girls as normally and respectfully as it does anyone else in the narrative. Their sexualities don't define them, even though naturally the former relationship is frequent across Marin's mind. And Mabel having a boyfriend now and a girlfriend in the past isn't treated as some kind of horrible or exceptional or traitorous thing; it's just how her love life works.

(There's also a lot of representation in the form of hispanic characters - Mexican immigrants, in this case - but I can't really speak to the accuracy or the way it's handled, as I don't have first-hand experience with a real life Mexican family. I will say, however, that it felt as if everything came from a place of authenticity, affection, and understanding.)

And even though I'm so let down by the ending and the reveal, I can't be too harsh on a book which made me feel as much as I did. I can't be too hard on a book that's written so beautifully. And I certainly can't be too hard on a book which made me feel like I could relate through half of the tale; it's so difficult to run across depression and grief written so well it doesn't feel like a failed attempt at emo fanfiction. I'm glad I read this book, I just wish the entire thing had been as good as the first portion.

I agonized for a while over whether to rate this title two or three stars, and I think ultimately I'd say it's 2.5 stars for me - rounded up to three to be nice since I don't actively dislike the book. Trouble is: I also didn't particularly enjoy the whole thing. There were pieces (and one side character) I liked and the concept was fascinating, but ultimately I found myself deeply disappointed and often bored with this one. For a story where the dead can come back to life and an extremely toxic friendship is explored, I expected more emotion and resolution and drama. Instead, things just kind of crawl along slowly and meander through a field of reasons why Dino and July should have never been friends in the first place, peppered with plot points which make absolutely no sense.

Perhaps the most egregious plot hole here is the fact July is described as actively decaying. Her skin's coming off, but nobody other than Dino ever notices or mentions it. She smells like death and decay because she wasn't embalmed, yet people just kind of deal with it for the most part. Have you ever smelled a decomposing corpse?! I have - albeit in the sense of roadkill and such - and let me tell you: that goes far beyond thinking someone smells a little ripe. It is a highly distinctive scent, it gets in your nose and makes you feel like it's crawling all over your skin. It causes a gag reflex for a lot of people. And we're supposed to believe that for several days - I think a week or longer - July is walking around, skin peeling off, leaving the scent of decaying corpses behind her and... that's it, that's all, nobody runs away and pukes or notices the rotting flesh?

I'd be okay with this as suspension of disbelief territory, if only we weren't reminded of the rotting skin and smell of decay every few pages. In fact, at one point, she's told not to move her thumb or its skin will fall off again; afterward, she does all manner of things from driving to touching people to texting to playing video games with someone which would absolutely require use of her thumb. The skin doesn't fall back off. She doesn't even split the stitches Dino used to reattach the flesh.

If not for the (very frustrating, I believe) hopping between Dino's and July's points of view, I'd have taken these elements to mean we were being set up to discover it was all a dream or hallucination at the end. With how little sense everything surrounding the paranormal element makes, I'd have welcomed a “just a dream” ending with open arms and probably liked this book a bit more as a result.

After all, when it's revealed that death has outright stopped happening all around the world, rules are established for the paranormal element which directly contradict everything about July's resurrection. One woman apparently can't speak or respond due to "missing more of her brain than is left" after an accidental shooting, but July herself has had all of her internal organs removed and she's still sentient and functional while she slowly rots from the inside out. And we never get a true explanation, just a vague theory. While the whole world keeps going on like “lol nbd, this is just generic news, no reason to panic.” People get more upset about rain storms in real life than they did about such a huge revelation in this book.

Since I was hoping for a book that veered firmly into paranormal territory while also exploring interpersonal relationships, this was a huge letdown for me. However, since I don't feel particularly strongly one way or the other - and goodreads has the most ridiculous review length limits - I'm not sure how to articulate what I liked and disliked. Enter my friend, the list! I'll start with what I didn't like and end with what I did, so I can leave on a positive note.

The Negatives

* Instead of realistic teenage voices, we get characters who sound like they're chatting online in the early 2010s. Example, from July's dialogue: “Uh-oh. Better call the dramahawk ‘cause the waaambulance'll take too long to get here.” Is this really how teens talk in person these days? Please tell me it isn't. Do people even use the whole ‘waaambulance' thing anymore? I remember it being big online back when I was in my late teens, and I'm nearly thirty now! July also references the Janet Jackson nip slip, which would have happened when she was a toddler, and knows more about it than I do despite having been fourteen at the time myself.

* There's a preachy SJW-level morality thrown in at every opportunity. Let me count the most noticeable ways this occurs:

01. July is scolded for making homophobic jokes not because doing so is hurtful and wrong but because she's not gay herself thus it's “not her joke to tell.” Why can't we just agree that perpetuating harmful stereotypes is wrong, full stop, instead? Being LGBT doesn't mean you aren't responsible for aiding in the reinforcement of bigoted beliefs when you tell shitty stereotype-based jokes yourself; every bigot who hears a gay person reinforce a generalization then feels validated because hey look even they believe it's true is worse than a straight ally who makes an oops because gay people around her also make or tolerate those jokes. Hypocrisy is just wrong, m'kay!

02. We're reminded at least three times that the president both exists and is a moron, despite it literally never being relevant and people generally reading to escape the bullshit of real life. Just fucking stop, please. That dead horse has been beaten to a pulp by now.

03. A young woman who was perfectly happy and excited to be married nearly decides to call it off because “it's a tool of the patriarchy” or something like that. She's magically worried about how marriage may change her and her future husband might want her to be a housewife simply because he wants kids at some point. Nothing even comes of it, other than a chapter full of what feels like a buzzfeed article.

04. “Come pretend to be a zombie and scare my mom's boss because he grabs her inappropriately! I am a teenager whose mom apparently tells her about this, but doesn't have the wherewithal to tell the police or upper management. And this is definitely not just an awkward attempt to hit more social justice hot topics. Promise!” Obviously not a direct quote, but the best way I can explain it.

05. July herself is a disgusting amalgam of every “bad straight ally” and “stupid cis white bitch” stereotype possible. There's no reason someone who's that blatantly and wilfully ignorant would have ever had a best friend who wasn't just as nasty - especially a gay one! Her characterization feels like a cheap attempt to have an excuse to check off all the buzzwords and morals which frankly don't fit in a story of this tone.

06. “Why is it that when a guy knows what he wants and goes after it and is proud of who he is, people call him a winner or a leader, but when a girl does it she's a selfish bitch?” This is a direct quote of the response to July being told that she's selfish and made people feel obligated to worship her during her confirmation party. It is completely irrelevant to the situation, because she really is terribly selfish and nobody would call a male a “leader” or “winner” for being a jerk like that. Instead of accepting criticism or admitting it hurts, she turns it into some bullshit social justice thing to silence Dino.

07. Dino tells July she isn't a selfish bitch - which is a lie - and that people are jealous she can get what she wants. Except the selfish things she's done have literally nothing to do with that. She makes Dino coming out be about her, outs him to the whole school, twists being called out on bigotry into a self-pity party, gets jealous of Dino's boyfriend spending more time with him than her, etc. But let's ignore that to push the narrative that calling a girl selfish just means you're sexist and jealous of her ‘success' in life!

And those are just the most blatant instances.

* Instead of compelling, emotionally-driven narrative, we get detached writing which makes both July and Dino feel like they're suffering dissociative episodes. They're not, by the way. The writing just carries no emotion, even in the rare moments where the characters do show emotion. (Seriously, the reactions to July's resurrection are so flat and lifeless from everyone except a single side character.)

* Death has stopped happening worldwide, and nobody reacts realistically. There is no horror, no chaos, no mass hysteria - even though the whole thing is covered on the news.

* July is a horrible person, and I deeply resent the book's attempts to redeem her without forcing her to own up to how bad she is. Let's count the most egregious ways:

01. misgenders her “best friend's” trans boyfriend and gets pissed off when called out on it

02. calls Dino her “girlfriend” because he's a gay guy

03. makes shitty, bigoted remarks, and gets angry when others try to explain why it's wrong

04. body shames skinny people (despite knowing Dino himself is thin and insecure about his body) but gets angry when she's body shamed for her curves

05. actively thinks of Dino as spineless and other insulting things which shame him for his anxiety issues

06. frequently manipulates people and twists everything until she's absolved of her wrongdoings and the other person feels a need to apologize (it's damn near gaslighting)

07. made Dino's coming out be about her instead of him by crying that she was afraid she'd turned him gay (yes, really)

08. outed Dino to the entire school without permission

09. responds to being told about her toxic cycle of manipulation with: “Cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it.”

10. sneaks into Rafi's bedroom and snooped around his personal belongings

* Dino himself is an annoying person who does shitty things, too. I mean, he breaks up with Rafi because he isn't sure whether he feels love yet when Rafi does. Because, you know, hurting someone very important who cares a lot about you is totally a better option than actually partaking in a little self-reflection or just being honest and saying you need time to think. It's very odd and out of left field, too - not congruent with Dino's character at all - and, worse, inspired by something July told him. So, yeah, July's an obnoxious idiot bu Dino's an oblivious idiot and together they make one giant pot of Idiot Stew, which gets poured into a metaphorical Slurpee Cup otherwise known as this book.

* The ending sucks and feels extremely anti-climactic. This book goes out with a pathetic whimper, at best. By the ending, all the trudging through frustrating back-and-forth with Dino and July seems utterly pointless.

* Dino ends up apologizing for “not being a good friend” when the only thing he ever did wrong to July was call her out on being a shitty friend and exclude her from being around people he thought she'd hurt with her harmful ‘jokes' and remarks. (He was right, by the way!) This book builds up what seems to be letting go of an extremely toxic friendship then backpedals to tie everything up in an ugly bow as if the non-toxic person were also partly responsible for finally breaking the friendship in the past. As someone who's been trapped in cyclic toxicity before, I was highly annoyed and disappointed by this element.

* Rafi, Dino's trans boyfriend, feels more like a tool to further Dino's plot with July. I love Rafi - you'll see him in the positives section soon - but every scene he's in (except the first chapter) feels more like it's about how he impacts Dino and July's “friendship” than about his relationship with Dino or him as an individual.

The Positives

* Dino points out that body shaming is disgusting and wrong whether the person being attacked is skinny or overweight. I was ecstatic to see this message included, because I'm so sick of the current trend of people pretending that the nastiness overweight people face somehow means it's okay or ‘not as bad' to make thinner people feel like trash or hate their own bodies. One group's pain does not negate the fact that another group doesn't deserve to endure self-hatred or bullying!

* Rafi is amazing! His personality is fun, his relationship with Dino feels genuine, and overall he's basically the best character in this book. (Seriously, he's the only character I actually liked.) While July drags others down, Rafi lifts them up. He cares selflessly about his friends, does his best to make sure Dino understands how special he is in Rafi's eyes, helps a friend see that an ex's choice of new partner isn't a reflection on their worthiness or lack thereof, and overall just... is a precious cinnamon bun with a bit of snark and humour on top. I want more of characters like Rafi and less of characters like July, please!

* There's a very poignant and accurate explanation of depression, as told by a young man who tried to commit suicide by overdose. (He, like July, is one of the people who should be dead.) He explains how depression is this veil of darkness and despair which settles in even when your life seems to be going okay and isolates you from everyone who cares until you're convinced that they don't care at all and you deserve to be lost and alone and sad. The way he said it - which I won't share, because it's something which deserves to be read in its entirety and experienced within proper context - resonated with me so much as someone who struggles with depression.

* The humour is fun and got a few, real chuckles from me. For the most part, the humour is juvenile - fart jokes and decomposing body smells, etc. - but it works in the way a b-movie comedy might. It's light hearted and a welcome relief from the constant bickering between Dino and July.

* This book is well-written. Yeah, there's the outdated pop (and meme) culture references and the often heavy-handed morality, but I don't consider those to be issues with the writing quality so much as with the content. Other than a few typos - ‘lead' where it should say ‘led,' ‘then' where it should say ‘the' - the style flows well and is mostly enjoyable to read. Despite being bored and annoyed several times - and disliking the main characters - I still felt compelled to keep reading.

* The cover is awesome. I just had to add that one, because it's so pretty!

And that's all I have room to say, but I think it sums up my main thoughts fairly accurately. I really wanted to love this book. The cover is gorgeous, the premise is intriguing, but unfortunately the actual content just does not deliver what I expected. I'm honestly just sad and disappointed at the ending, but not enough to regret reading this book.

This book is fun and I can honestly say I love it despite its minor flaws. As a child, I would have taken this whole series from the school library and eagerly awaited each installment - if only it existed back then. I enjoyed reading it, and even managed to giggle at some of the jokes despite being am adult myself.

Stick Dog is a fun story about canine friends who seek out delicious hamburgers when they find a family grilling at the park. They have hilarious and adorable antics along the way, narrated by the child who drew them. (This gets a little confusing for us adults in the mix, because the child's name is also the author's name instead of a fictional character's. I assume it's done to avoid confusing children who read this book, but I worry perhaps it's an unnecessary blurring of the lines between reality and fiction.) Each dog has a unique appearance and personality, and they interact in a way which feels natural.

In terms of content, I can't say it's clear what the target audience is. There are words and scenarios which require an older audience capable of reasoning and vocabulary building (e.g.: distraction, contraction, rhinoceroses, and other large words). Parents of impressionable or particularly young kids may want to provide some guidance due to cartoon logic and some instances of dangerous behaviour not being fully addressed as very bad ideas. For the sake of helping parents make an informed choice, I'm listing things which stuck out to me as inappropriate for a very young reader unless they have proper guidance:

* In one instance, a dog suggests intentionally getting hurt - by jumping off a cliff into rocky water - for attention, so that humans will pity them and give them food. Her friends decide to shelve that idea as 'Plan B.' For mature readers, it's obvious they're placating her and think it's a terrible idea; for less reasonable readers, like young children, it may not be as clear.* In another instance, one dog says he can run face first into a tree and only get a little injured. The other dogs consider that a good idea, as it might help distract humans while they steal hamburgers. It's later likened to being as harmless as when a baby stumbles while learning to walk.* There are moments of animal prejudice - dogs against squirrels and mailmen - which may be inappropriate in some parent's eyes. I personally thought it was all in good fun, but just be aware it exists. One dog tolerates another's hatred of squirrels, despite feeling it's wrong, just to placate him. Another instance has a dog saying he had a human who was very nice to him, but he barked at his human anyway because there was no choice since that human was a mailman. It's the kind of logic racists use and doesn't get addressed, so it may be important to discuss with a young reader why this is not a good way to think.* I don't know how to explain this one bit without just transcribing it. The narrator is talking about how it feels to burn the roof of your mouth and says: "you burn the roof of your mouth so badly that it makes a little flap of loose skin hang down, and you spend the rest of the day trying to tear that thing off with your tongue???only it takes forever, and it SLOWLY DRIVES YOU CRAZY until you???d do just about anything, INCLUDING STICKING A VACCUUM CLEANER???S SUCKING TUBE THINGY IN YOUR MOUTH, just to get it out!" Emphasis is not mine; it's all caps in the book. There is also an illustration at this point of a child shoving a vacuum hose into his mouth. Needless to say, you'll want to make sure your child is mature enough to know this is by no means okay to do in real life!

As for those minor flaws I mentioned earlier: Well, much like many cartoons and children's books, there are illogical moments. Why does Poo-Poo the Poodle know what slingshots and cannons are? (Don't worry, it's all used in comical daredevil humour, not as tools for direct violence.) Why do suburban dogs know what a warrior human is or that said warriors have swords? (One dog mistakes a woman with cooking utensils as a warrior with a mighty sword.) How does a dog know the phrase “at a hundred miles an hour”? How does a dog know how to spell ‘distraction'? These things are inherent flaws, but given the book is for children and these elements make it more entertaining and fun, I can't fault it much. I mean, sponges also can't talk and dogs can't solve mysteries but Spongebob and Scooby-Doo are beloved children's media characters. Besides, this isn't just a book about dogs; it's a book about a kid telling stories he made up about dogs. There's a lot of leeway to be had there, since kids don't generally notice problems like that when telling stories.

Would I recommend this book? Absolutely, yes. Would I let my own kids read it if I had any? Yep! If they were eight or younger, I'd want to discuss the book with them during or after they read it, but otherwise I wouldn't mind.

Avid and reluctant readers alike would probably enjoy the adventures of Stick Dog and his motley crew, but some may need the help of a trusted older person to understand certain aspects or words. I also think having a dialogue with children about reality vs. fiction is vital, and anyone whose child understands the concept likely won't acquire any dangerous ideas from the antics in this book. As for older kids, I can't say for certain. At times, this book feels more middle grade, but the contents and storytelling style seem like they might embarrass middleschoolers. I'd have loved it myself, but I never lost my love for cute animal-based stories.

Overall, I love Stick Dog and I'm so happy that I decided I need a simple, cute book to cleanse my palate after reading an infuriatingly bad one. Thank uhoh, Tom Watson, for the happiness Stick Dog and his friends gave me. I hope they do the same for children, especially those who need a reason to enjoy reading.

So, I love The Outsiders - both book and movie - and I enjoyed the film version of Rumble Fish, so reading this book seemed like a good choice. I expected to love it as much as the aforementioned titles, but it just didn't have the impact or life that I hoped it would.

There are so many parts I recognize from the film, but the writing style here just feels too juvenile to get the same atmosphere across. Which, yeah, this is from the POV of a young teen in a gang so it makes some sense to have a less adult feel to the writing, but so was The Outsiders and the prose there flows a lot better. Maybe Rumble Fish is too rushed? Maybe there isn't enough time to develop emotional attachments to characters who aren't particularly likeable? I don't know, but I didn't love this the way I hoped I might.

Also, one of my big pet peeves in writing is when people write “could of,” “should of,” etc instead of “could've,” “should have,” and such. This book makes that mistake frequently, I presume as an intentional portrayal of how Rusty James speaks, and it grinds my gears every time.

As for the story itself: I like the concept a bit more than the execution. Though I enjoyed the film version, I felt similarly about it and hoped the story would expand on some of my favourite parts. Unfortunately, it didn't... and I discovered that it feels even more unnatural to see someone's inner monologue and realize he even thinks of his own brother as “the Motorcycle Boy” instead of by a real name. It's also harder to make what you will of the story's meaning - if there really is one - when you're trapped in the POV of a character who's honestly kind of an oblivious jerkwad until the very end. Rusty-James' point of view just doesn't work the same way Ponyboy's does in The Outsiders. It's too unfeeling, too detached - at times almost like he's reading off a grocery list instead of saying what's happening.

In The Outsiders, it's obvious when a character has PTSD or when another cares and is afraid of showing it. In Rumble Fish, it's more like a guessing game. Is there a point to being told one character hasn't yet shown interest in girls (as in, are we being stealthily told he's gay) or is it just another random factoid which has no relevance - of which there are plenty? Is there a moral behind another character shunning a “junkie” despite caring about them or is it just there for shock value? These are things which feel half-addressed, half-formed, and ultimately unimportant from the way the narrative handles them. It's a shame, because I wanted there to be more to it. I wanted to leave this book feeling the same impact I did when I finished The Outsiders. I wanted to care about the characters, but aside from Steve and a peripheral interest in the Motorcycle Boy - which kept getting tainted by how silly his own brother calling him that felt - I just didn't because there wasn't enough content or emotion to feel like I actually got to know any of them.

The ending felt a bit like it was trying to be as poignant as the ending of The Outsiders, but it really missed the mark for me. I knew it was coming because I'd seen the film already, and honestly it made me cry when watching... not when reading. Seeing how I still cry every time a certain few characters in the Harry Potter series, The Hunger Games trilogy, and The Outsiders die despite revisiting those many times, I don't think knowing it was coming made the impact less. It just... didn't have the oomf I hoped for, I suppose. It was there and gone in barely a handful of pages, tacked onto the end like it was an afterthought. No exploration of emotions, feelings, thoughts - barely anything at all, really, and nothing so poignant as what happens in the film.

Also, in all honesty, I kind of hoped the book would cover more of an aftermath than the film. It would've been so much better if it had, I believe. Then again, maybe not; if it were written in the same detached way, it'd just be a major let down regardless.

But it's not bad. I don't dislike it. I'm just disappointed that it wasn't everything I'd built it up to be in my head and didn't make me feel as emotionally attached as I'd hoped. I took quite a bit from the story, personally, but it's as if I can tell that what I took from it is of my own creation and not something intended. Maybe I'm wrong; maybe I'm catching onto things that really are intentionally there and discrediting them as not being purposeful or meaningful to the author because of the detached writing style. I wouldn't know. I'll never know.

Three stars feels like a reasonable middle ground between the two sides of this. Maybe even 3.5, if only that were an option. I think I'd skip out on re-reading the book and just watch the film in the future if I feel like revisiting the story, but otherwise I do like it. Just not as much as I'd hoped.