Emotional level (least to most) - 8
TRIGGERS: Rape, violence, abuse
TRIGGERS: Rape, violence, abuse
Action (little to a lot) - 4
Lucky, by Alice Sebold is a true memoir, not a mostly true or an exaggerated truth (like How I Made it to Eighteen or A Million Little Pieces), a real honest-to-goodness memoir. At least as far as the reader is concerned.
When I read Sebold's other novel, The Lovely Bones, I was drawn to her writing and was transformed into her world. I re-read The Lovely Bones when I was in University after reading a book called Redrum: The Innocent. Both authors were telling somewhat similar stories, but I was able to gather a better depth of The Lovely Bones by reading a Canadian text about the Canadian judicial system.
When I picked up Lucky, I purchased 5 copies for $1.99 each, not knowing what kind of steal I received these for.
Lucky begins with the standard "it was a day like any other" feeling, but moves almost immediately into violence and Sebold's own rape - in the first chapter. I would find it hard to believe that she hadn't been through the rape (if the text were not actually a memoir) because it was so precise, moving, and raw.
The rest of the memoir centers around Sebold seeking justice and closure. Another intriguing layer to Sebold's story is how she evolved during her time in University, and ultimately alluding to how she came to be a writer.
Sebold explains in her memoir about traumatic stories and storytellers. She says that storytellers take ownership of the story, they take the experience of someone else and transform and add to the story to make it their own. It is no use to correct them on the facts, because it belongs to them now.
I really enjoy the way Sebold writes in both of her books. Her artistry of language allows the reader to sit back and just read (or listen) to what she has to say. She is the storyteller, and while her writing is urgent at times, there is an overwhelming sense of patience, calmness, and an undertone I can only describe as her saying "please don't be traumatized, everything is going to be all right, you will see, because I am here. I am alive. I am okay."
I love memoirs, but Lucky is something really special.
However, while I love the memoir, I do take issue with the last few chapters of the book: everything wrapped up nicely, but an entirely different event happens that destroys the lovely ending. Then, the afterward skims over the next number of years leading up to Sebold writing her memoir, chronicling heroin abuse, alcoholism, and self sabotage.
I would recommend this memoir to anyone who has read Speak and is looking for a more adult version of a similar story (suitable for grade 11s and 12s only). Anyone who likes to read about people overcoming obstacles and touchy subjects, or anyone who has read The Lovely Bones or likes Sebold's writing style.
Lucky, by Alice Sebold is a true memoir, not a mostly true or an exaggerated truth (like How I Made it to Eighteen or A Million Little Pieces), a real honest-to-goodness memoir. At least as far as the reader is concerned.
When I read Sebold's other novel, The Lovely Bones, I was drawn to her writing and was transformed into her world. I re-read The Lovely Bones when I was in University after reading a book called Redrum: The Innocent. Both authors were telling somewhat similar stories, but I was able to gather a better depth of The Lovely Bones by reading a Canadian text about the Canadian judicial system.
When I picked up Lucky, I purchased 5 copies for $1.99 each, not knowing what kind of steal I received these for.
Lucky begins with the standard "it was a day like any other" feeling, but moves almost immediately into violence and Sebold's own rape - in the first chapter. I would find it hard to believe that she hadn't been through the rape (if the text were not actually a memoir) because it was so precise, moving, and raw.
The rest of the memoir centers around Sebold seeking justice and closure. Another intriguing layer to Sebold's story is how she evolved during her time in University, and ultimately alluding to how she came to be a writer.
Sebold explains in her memoir about traumatic stories and storytellers. She says that storytellers take ownership of the story, they take the experience of someone else and transform and add to the story to make it their own. It is no use to correct them on the facts, because it belongs to them now.
I really enjoy the way Sebold writes in both of her books. Her artistry of language allows the reader to sit back and just read (or listen) to what she has to say. She is the storyteller, and while her writing is urgent at times, there is an overwhelming sense of patience, calmness, and an undertone I can only describe as her saying "please don't be traumatized, everything is going to be all right, you will see, because I am here. I am alive. I am okay."
I love memoirs, but Lucky is something really special.
However, while I love the memoir, I do take issue with the last few chapters of the book: everything wrapped up nicely, but an entirely different event happens that destroys the lovely ending. Then, the afterward skims over the next number of years leading up to Sebold writing her memoir, chronicling heroin abuse, alcoholism, and self sabotage.
I would recommend this memoir to anyone who has read Speak and is looking for a more adult version of a similar story (suitable for grade 11s and 12s only). Anyone who likes to read about people overcoming obstacles and touchy subjects, or anyone who has read The Lovely Bones or likes Sebold's writing style.
Overall rating (poor to excellent) - 10, up until the afterward
Quotes from the novel:
Since then I've always thought that under rape in the dictionary it should tell the truth. It is not just forcible intercourse; rape means to inhabit and destroy everything.
After telling the hard facts to anyone from lover to friend, I have changed in their eyes. Often it is awe or admiration, sometimes it is repulsion, once or twice it has been fury hurled directly at me for reasons I remain unsure of.
For Lorenz, virgins were not a part of his world. He was skeptical of many things I said. Later, when the serology reports proved that what I had said was not a lie, that I had been a virgin, and that I was telling the truth, he could not respect me enough. I think he felt responsible, somehow. It was, after all, in his world where this hideous thing had happened to me. A world of violent crime.
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