"The whole town is upset by what happened."
In Mockingbird, author Kathryn Erskine takes a different perspective on loss. When Caitlin Smith's brother is killed in a school shooting, everyone is devastated. Family members she barely knows visit to express their condolences and offer support. But for an eleven-year-old with Asperger's Syndrome, it's just too overwhelming--people offering her candy and asking for information she's already told her school counselor, like how she's feeling. Devon's room is locked up tight, and his Eagle project sits unfinished in a corner, covered in a lonely white sheet. What she needs is closure, and Caitlin is determined to get it...for herself, for her father, and for the entire town.
Technically speaking, Mockingbird is classified as a young adult book, but that's not the way it reads. Erskine's character feels like she's eleven, with her simple view of the world and the way she all but idolizes her older brother. Her Asperger's is also apparent, and though it's not the point of the story, it is beautifully depicted in a way that is easy to understand. She sucks on her shirt sleeve, avoids eye contact, and expresses her opinions bluntly, all for reasons that make sense when seen through her logic. When Caitlin learns about closure, she becomes fixated on it, searching for something to do in order to obtain it, a quest that sets her on a path to overcome her fears and mature a great deal. Readers may very well find themselves rooting for her as she faces challenge after challenge, cheering her on until the end.
But she can't do this alone. Despite being anything but a team player, Caitlin soon finds herself enlisting the help of her father, counselor, a teacher, and a couple students to find closure in the wake of her brother's death. Erskine doesn't go into detail on the shootings, only on the aftermath--the way the shooter's cousin is ostracized, the line of faces expressing condolences, and the expectation that time will heal even the most painful wounds. Caitlin's mind gives the narrative a narrow but fascinating filter that tones down the drama without minimizing or trivializing her loss.
I would recommend this book to tweens looking for a story with a new perspective on the mourning process. With clear, straightforward writing that makes Caitlin's Asperger's seem just as real as the world around her, Kathryn Erskine gives her protagonist roundness and depth. In a world torn apart by grief, Caitlin's quest for closure is relatable to readers young and old. For beautiful prose and powerful insight into overcoming loss, Mockingbird deserves five stars.
In Mockingbird, author Kathryn Erskine takes a different perspective on loss. When Caitlin Smith's brother is killed in a school shooting, everyone is devastated. Family members she barely knows visit to express their condolences and offer support. But for an eleven-year-old with Asperger's Syndrome, it's just too overwhelming--people offering her candy and asking for information she's already told her school counselor, like how she's feeling. Devon's room is locked up tight, and his Eagle project sits unfinished in a corner, covered in a lonely white sheet. What she needs is closure, and Caitlin is determined to get it...for herself, for her father, and for the entire town.
Technically speaking, Mockingbird is classified as a young adult book, but that's not the way it reads. Erskine's character feels like she's eleven, with her simple view of the world and the way she all but idolizes her older brother. Her Asperger's is also apparent, and though it's not the point of the story, it is beautifully depicted in a way that is easy to understand. She sucks on her shirt sleeve, avoids eye contact, and expresses her opinions bluntly, all for reasons that make sense when seen through her logic. When Caitlin learns about closure, she becomes fixated on it, searching for something to do in order to obtain it, a quest that sets her on a path to overcome her fears and mature a great deal. Readers may very well find themselves rooting for her as she faces challenge after challenge, cheering her on until the end.
But she can't do this alone. Despite being anything but a team player, Caitlin soon finds herself enlisting the help of her father, counselor, a teacher, and a couple students to find closure in the wake of her brother's death. Erskine doesn't go into detail on the shootings, only on the aftermath--the way the shooter's cousin is ostracized, the line of faces expressing condolences, and the expectation that time will heal even the most painful wounds. Caitlin's mind gives the narrative a narrow but fascinating filter that tones down the drama without minimizing or trivializing her loss.
I would recommend this book to tweens looking for a story with a new perspective on the mourning process. With clear, straightforward writing that makes Caitlin's Asperger's seem just as real as the world around her, Kathryn Erskine gives her protagonist roundness and depth. In a world torn apart by grief, Caitlin's quest for closure is relatable to readers young and old. For beautiful prose and powerful insight into overcoming loss, Mockingbird deserves five stars.
No comments:
Post a Comment