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Wintergirls, by Laurie Halse Anderson
Wintergirls
, by Laurie Halse Anderson
Lia and Cassie were best friends, sharing secrets and books and milestones, and, as they grew older, also the bond of both wanting to be thin, thinner, thinnest. Then they had a falling-out, and a few months later Cassie died, alone, after leaving many many messages on Lia's cell phone. Now Lia is seeing Cassie's ghost (or perhaps they're hallucinations or delusions brought on by hunger and guilt and depression), luring her deeper into the icy liminal world of the mad, the dying, and the dead.
Wintergirls is a painful, intense, and beautifully lyrical book. (That word, lyrical, is badly overused, including by me, but in this case I think it's absolutely appropriate.) It's also not a book about anorexia: it's a book about a girl with anorexia, and there's a big difference. The main difference is that this isn't a Problem Novel. (If you don't know what a Problem Novel is, count your blessings; if you do, you're probably wincing along with me.) Lia has anorexia, Lia's anorexia is central to the plot and its realities are not shied away from, but the book is fundamentally about Lia. It doesn't use Lia as a puppet in a morality play. And that's crucial, to me.
I tagged this post with 'magic realism' because it's a rare example of a book where there's a fantastic element that may or may not be really present, and either interpretation is just as valid all the way through. Lia may really be haunted by Cassie, may really be in the process of being summoned to a beautiful and lifeless underworld of death and madness and rose-thorns and eternal winter, or she may be hallucinating, or she may be delusional from grief or hunger or depression or all of the above. If you need your fantastic elements to have concrete resolutions or explanations, this book is probably not for you, but I loved the way it hovered perpetually between both explanations without selling either short.
The other thing I loved was the fact that the mythic elements were there but weren't overplayed. The parallels between Lia and Cassie/Persephone and Hades are set up from page one, but they don't become heavy-handed or take over the book. They're just there, and they may be in Lia's mind (she is a fantasy reader, after all) or they may be real, or they may be both.
This is a very different book than Prom, which I also enjoyed very much, but I think the comparison actually makes them both stronger. Lia is different in almost every way from Ashley in Prom (Lia comes from a privileged background and Ashley is poor, Lia takes everything seriously and Ashley takes very few things seriously, Lia is obsessed with control and Ashley is mostly fine letting things come as they are), and yet they both struck me as entirely believable teenage-girl voices. And I was both like and unlike both of them, and I identified with both of them. It shows that Anderson has pretty impressive scope and range.
Anyway. This is an intense and lovely book, albeit not an easy one to read. But I finished it in an afternoon, more or less, and so I'd recommend it for sure.
(Those of you who have read other books by Anderson: are they also this good? After two-for-two I'm interested in getting more.)
, by Laurie Halse AndersonLia and Cassie were best friends, sharing secrets and books and milestones, and, as they grew older, also the bond of both wanting to be thin, thinner, thinnest. Then they had a falling-out, and a few months later Cassie died, alone, after leaving many many messages on Lia's cell phone. Now Lia is seeing Cassie's ghost (or perhaps they're hallucinations or delusions brought on by hunger and guilt and depression), luring her deeper into the icy liminal world of the mad, the dying, and the dead.
Wintergirls is a painful, intense, and beautifully lyrical book. (That word, lyrical, is badly overused, including by me, but in this case I think it's absolutely appropriate.) It's also not a book about anorexia: it's a book about a girl with anorexia, and there's a big difference. The main difference is that this isn't a Problem Novel. (If you don't know what a Problem Novel is, count your blessings; if you do, you're probably wincing along with me.) Lia has anorexia, Lia's anorexia is central to the plot and its realities are not shied away from, but the book is fundamentally about Lia. It doesn't use Lia as a puppet in a morality play. And that's crucial, to me.
I tagged this post with 'magic realism' because it's a rare example of a book where there's a fantastic element that may or may not be really present, and either interpretation is just as valid all the way through. Lia may really be haunted by Cassie, may really be in the process of being summoned to a beautiful and lifeless underworld of death and madness and rose-thorns and eternal winter, or she may be hallucinating, or she may be delusional from grief or hunger or depression or all of the above. If you need your fantastic elements to have concrete resolutions or explanations, this book is probably not for you, but I loved the way it hovered perpetually between both explanations without selling either short.
The other thing I loved was the fact that the mythic elements were there but weren't overplayed. The parallels between Lia and Cassie/Persephone and Hades are set up from page one, but they don't become heavy-handed or take over the book. They're just there, and they may be in Lia's mind (she is a fantasy reader, after all) or they may be real, or they may be both.
This is a very different book than Prom, which I also enjoyed very much, but I think the comparison actually makes them both stronger. Lia is different in almost every way from Ashley in Prom (Lia comes from a privileged background and Ashley is poor, Lia takes everything seriously and Ashley takes very few things seriously, Lia is obsessed with control and Ashley is mostly fine letting things come as they are), and yet they both struck me as entirely believable teenage-girl voices. And I was both like and unlike both of them, and I identified with both of them. It shows that Anderson has pretty impressive scope and range.
Anyway. This is an intense and lovely book, albeit not an easy one to read. But I finished it in an afternoon, more or less, and so I'd recommend it for sure.
(Those of you who have read other books by Anderson: are they also this good? After two-for-two I'm interested in getting more.)
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As a data point, a very good friend who is an anorexia survivor despises it, and has read me long passages with her scathing commentary. She says it's a dieter's book about anorexia and is completely and utterly wrong about what the condition is and how it plays out. (She does like Anderson's earlier book, the name of which is currently escaping me.)
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I've seen both responses to the book from anorexia/eating disorder survivors, that it's accurate and that it's not, so I think this may be a "mileage may vary" book. It certainly doesn't represent everyone's experience of disordered eating.
(For reference, the book was recommended to me by a dear friend who is anorexic, so yeah. Again: not representative of everyone's experience.)
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Speak and Chains are both also superb, in very different ways.
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It also did the remarkable thing of making me, someone who is pretty darn comfortable with her body, completely understand and sympathize with Lia. I wanted her to get better, because I liked her, but I didn't go, "Eat something, GOD," because I understood her. Even when understanding her was hard and painful.
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Of the Anderson books you haven't yet read, Speak is the really famous one, but I have a special fondness for Catalyst (http://buymeaclue.livejournal.com/700999.html and scroll down).
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I love stories that do that. It's one of my favorite things about Total Recall, and one of my beefs with Donnie Darko is that it tries to create ambiguity about whether what Donnie's seeing is real, but doesn't really commit to the possibility that it's not.
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I haven't read Chains but have heard good things, I enjoyed Twisted when I read it but can now recall nearly nothing about it, and I didn't like Fever.
I too love the liminal quality of Wintergirls. You might also check out Kathe Koja's Blue Mirror, which is more clearly fantasy but shares some similar gritty lyricism.
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Here's my review, which is generally positive:
http://www.teenreads.com/reviews/9780670011100.asp
My favorite is probably Twisted.
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I was struck by how very different these books are, and how different readers might need one or the other.