After alluding to its brilliance so many times in my other reviews, it’s finally time to revisit A Long, Long Sleep, a fairytale retelling that proved to be so much more than it seemed and is now one of my all-time favorite books.
I’ll admit it: when I first heard of this novel, I dismissed it straightaway. I found it on an Epicreads YA Retellings Chart back in 2014, clicked the link, and immediately lost interest the moment I saw words like “stasis tube” and “interplanetary empire.” I’ve never been a big fan of sci-fi, so I shallowly assumed the whole book was going to be dull futuristic space action stuff. To this day, I still have no idea why I re-opened the link and gave the book a second chance. But I am so glad that I did. A Long, Long Sleep’s blurb makes it sound like a deeply angsty futuristic sci-fi love story. But it isn’t. Not at all.
It’s not an exaggeration to say that this is a book that changed my life. It completely revolutionized the way I look at fairytale retellings; in fact, it ruined a lot of retellings for me because after reading this book, most of them couldn’t measure up.
I’ve always loved Sleeping Beauty. And, like Ms. Sheehan, I’ve always been more interested in the part after the princess wakes up than the part before she falls asleep. Waking up after a hundred years (or, in the case of A Long, Long Sleep, sixty-two) is bound to have some serious psychological ramifications and make for all sorts of fascinating character development. And yet, A Long, Long Sleep is one of only two retellings I’ve ever come across that deal with the direct psychological aftermath of the fairytale, the other being Alex Flinn’s A Kiss in Time. And while I enjoyed both books, the huge difference is that Flinn’s novel is lighthearted and comedic, playing up the changes (such as the princess’s reaction to new technology) for laughs.
A Long, Long Sleep does not play for laughs. It is a dark, serious, at times disturbing book about abuse, loss, and identity. It’s not all gloom and doom, but there’s a very sad undercurrent to the whole story and Sheehan repeatedly drives home just how much Rose has lost. It has the most mature take on abuse that I have ever read; it finely walks the line of facing the issue head-on without pandering to readers. It is a book about recovery and reclaiming yourself, and it is thoroughly satisfying in the quietest way imaginable. It’s a tour de force without any cheap tricks or fireworks. It’s a story of a lost little girl growing into a haunted young woman. And it is absolutely beautiful.
Given my distaste for sci-fi, it’s surprising how much I enjoyed the world-building of this book. I don’t know about you, but I sure don’t get excited when I hear about intergalactic space politics and a whole bunch of A Long, Long Sleep is spent discussing the history of the interplanetary empire, power dynamics, government actions, sustainability, and a whole bunch of other things that don’t sound particularly stimulating on paper. So why is it that the book never stops being interesting? For one thing, Sheehan’s writing. She has a style that’s clear and readable, where every word counts and the smallest of sentences have incredible power. Less is more in the case of A Long, Long Sleep, and it helps with the giant world-building exposition chunks because it ensures that readers aren’t stuck in a droning history lesson. But I think, more than anything else, the heavy world-building and politics stuff works because the world-building (however thought-out it might be) is not the focus of the story. Sure, it plays a big role, but it takes a backseat to Rose and a deeply emotional character-driven narrative.
Rose isn’t going to be everyone’s favorite literary heroine. She is childish, self-pitying (although who can blame her?), and even quite wimpy. She falls in love too fast, she doesn’t take any initiative, and she never asks for help (and not in the confident, independent way). She is the “anti-strong” female character, the kind that will make a lot of readers angry. And then slowly, so subtly you didn’t even realize it at first, she stops being that and becomes something a lot more human. By the end of the story, she is a young woman worth rooting for as she slowly overcomes her demons and becomes more and more empowered. (And there is a reason for her behavior, one that is slowly unveiled with each chapter, one that is so heartbreaking and sad and both shines new light on her past actions and makes the book’s conclusion all the more rewarding.)
I could talk about the plot, but the “action” plot really isn’t as important as the character-driven elements, mainly Rose’s interactions with other characters. And, second to Rose’s personal growth, the friendships are the best part of this novel. The character dynamics are incredibly classy, in a way that many other literary relationships aren’t. Otto and Rose have a very sweet friendship and their conversations flow naturally across the page (which was a real surprise, because normally any Internet messaging passage will bog a book down). And while Rose and Otto’s bond is far less conventional than Rose and Bren’s, I actually think the latter is almost better because of the way it takes such a traditional trope and completely subverts it by treating the two of them like normal, messed-up teenagers rather than a pair of star-crossed lovers. It’s nice to watch each of them grow in their own little ways, and it was so good to hear Bren talk like an actual seventeen-year-old boy instead of a studly romantic hero. Simply put: the relationships in this novel work beautifully. Even Rose’s overly-skimmed first romance passes the test without feeling ridiculous or icky thanks to some savvy writing. And can I just say that it’s nice to read a YA book--or any book, really--where conversations have time to breathe and characters talk things out like normal people? I feel like most of Sheehan’s conversations might seem too long-winded for some readers, but I found them a refreshing change of pace. They felt more real. And, not to give anything away, but there’s one conversation in the final chapter--probably the longest in the book--between two characters that is one of the smartest, most honest exchanges that I have ever read. That part alone is probably worth the 5 stars.
Like I mentioned before, when I first picked up this book, I was expecting a love story. (That could have been my inner hopeless romantic acting out, but I think the blurb leads readers to think in that direction, too.) So I was really disappointed to find myself just past the one-hundred page mark and finding the whole romance aspect of the book to be horribly rushed and juvenile. It reeked of instalove and the whole thing felt silly and melodramatic rather than a natural, endearing relationship that developed over time. Words cannot express how much I hate instalove, or any romance that comes together too quickly with no real basis in character interaction, so I was frustrated to see how badly the book messed that opportunity up by rushing Rose’s feelings for another person.
And then I realized that it was all deliberate. I won’t spoil things for you, but let me say that Sheehan knew what she was doing the whole time and carried it out masterfully. The romance aspect of this book was a classic example of when a story didn’t give me what I wanted, but instead gave me what I needed--and thus we have one of the most mature, authentic takes on romance, lost love, and moving on that I have ever seen. It’s not a love story per se, but it’s a story about love, whether it’s tentative new love, first love, platonic love, abusive and manipulative love, and even love that has changed over time. It’s about finding people who support you and breaking away from those who don’t, and how healing is often helped by our relationships with other people.
A Long, Long Sleep is an amazing book. It’s not just a great take on the psychological after-effects of the Sleeping Beauty story--although it is that--but it’s just a great novel regardless. Moreover, it’s an important novel that isn’t afraid to go to dark places and take some serious storytelling risks. It is a book that surprises you in the best ways, from plot developments to characters to character relationships. It is a book that, quite frankly, spoiled me--more than anything else as a reader, I value a book’s protagonist, relationships, and emotion and A Long, Long Sleep somehow hits the nail on the head with all three of them. I can see why other people might not love the book as much as I do--after all, there are readers who prefer their action or their world-building to the psychological stuff. But personally, I couldn’t be happier and words cannot express how grateful I am to Sheehan for putting this story out there--and how glad I am that I took a chance on it, despite my initial reservations.
Also, those final few pages. That epilogue. I dare you not to be impressed.
5 stars.