Review: Isn't a perfect book, it's admirable in its approach & direction.
Rating: 3 out of 5
Date: 01 16, 2014
Bri has a shitty home life. Her father is an abusive alcoholic and her mother is negligent. Bri decides to run away and make a go of it herself. She sleeps rough and ends up working in a bar (a mock speakeasy, apparently. To be honest, it sounds insufferable). She's living with her bestie and co-worker, Jax, and seems to be happy enough. This content, alcohol-soaked existence falls arse-over-t!t when she meets glowery, not-here-for-this-s*** Luke and they fall into a shouting-turns-to-sex relationship, interspersed with random attacks from rivals, Jax and Bri's childhood ghosts.It seemed like this story took place in a vacuum. Place names were rarely (if ever) mentioned, there were no pop cultural touchstones on which to hang our reference hat, and while far too many peripheral characters are mentioned and never returned to, it gives the book a sense of a casual diary entry. These characters float in and out, and if they aren't crucial to every scene in which they appear, they aren't dwelt on. This highlights Bri's lack of close relationships. The only fleshed-out characters are Jax and Luke, and there's no coincidence that these are the only characters Bri opens up to. They care for her (jury's kind of out on that, though) and she rewards them by meditating on something more than the superficial.There is little to no warmth in Bri's relationship with Luke and any proclamations of love are a bit out-of-the-blue. Bri gives so little of herself, battles everyone with brittle badassery, that it's difficult to see how Luke can see her vulnerability when even the reader sees so little of it. The only softness we see is in her co-dependent friendship with Jax who masks his need to be around her with patronizing 'saving you' bulls***.Bri, however, is a bad chick. She has no qualms about bashing an enormous man over the head with a drinks tray, or calling strange men in alleys names or calling her own belligerent boxer beau a 'B**ch' in the throes of a fight. She's pretty awesome. Luke is also quite endearing. He doesn't stand for Bri's defensive bulls*** and calls her out on her occasional meanness. But, Jesus, the drama. There is a lot of fighting and making up. If this book were longer, I know I'd be ticked off with their antics.Bri's attempts to come to terms with her abuse at the hands of her parents are realistic and painful (and refreshingly aided by alcohol and cigs). She shows her kindness not in her everyday social interactions. She does it rather in her conscious refusal to ignore the junkies outside the bar. She does it in her attempts to fix the broken relationship between her friend and Luke's. She's unflashy but has a pure kindness that has survived despite her trials.Overall, this is an interesting, well-written book. It lacks the heart and warmth that I tend towards, but that's a personal preference. The violence is brutish, but that only highlights the flashes of affection and tenderness that could otherwise have gone unnoticed. So while it isn't a perfect book, it's admirable in its approach and direction.Rant: Bri's father is Irish. This is mentioned more than once, along with references to his 'Irish temper' and his ethnically predestined alcoholism and sexual deviance. Look, I get that this is something that lives in perpetuity in the States but for once in my life, I got annoyed with this s***. I'm the least patriotic person on the face of the planet, both for it being the "last refuge of the scoundrel", etc. and because I belong to a socio-linguistic group that has been ostracized, neglected and abused by our ethnic brethren for centuries (I can talk about that for days, trust). Having said that, what purpose do continued references to his nationality serve other than to hasten the exposition? He's Irish, so that explains the violence and alcoholism. He's Irish so that explains why he beats his wife. "Ohhhh, he's Irish, I get it", says the reader. No. F*** that.