A lush, gripping, psychologically complex novel that asks: How much do siblings owe one another?
At the edge of a woods, on the grounds of a defunct “free school,” Ava and her brother, Fred, share a dreamy and seemingly idyllic childhood—a world defined largely by their imaginations, a celebration of curiosity and the natural environment, and each other’s presence. Their parents, progressive educators, believe passionately that children develop best without formal instruction or societal constraint. Everyone is aware of Fred’s oddness—the word “autism” is whispered—but his parents’ fierce disapproval of labels keeps him free of clinical evaluation, diagnosis, or intervention, and constantly at Ava’s side.
Decades later, Fred is arrested for a shocking crime, and Ava is frantic to piece together the story of what actually happened. A boy is dead. Fred is held in a county jail. But could he really have done what he’s accused of? By now their parents are long gone, and the siblings have fallen out of touch, which causes Ava considerable guilt. Who is left to reach Fred? To explain him and his innocence to the world? Convinced that she alone can ensure he is regarded with sympathy, Ava tells their enthralling story.
A writer of enormous craft, Leah Hager Cohen brings her trademark intelligence and storytelling to a psychologically gripping, richly ambiguous novel that suggests we may ultimately understand one another best not with facts alone, but through our imaginations.
Leah Hager Cohen has written four non-fiction books, including Train Go Sorry and Glass, Paper, Beans, and four novels, including House Lights and The Grief of Others.
She serves as the Jenks Chair in Contemporary American Letters at the College of the Holy Cross, and teaches in the Low-Residency MFA Program in Creative Writing at Lesley University. She is a frequent contributor to the New York Times Book Review.
Strangely disappointing. I say "strangely", because it's difficult for Me to pinpoint exactly how, why, and when this became something other than a book I wanted to read..., something other than the book I thought I was reading. The writing started out quite strong, and I believed I was going to really enjoy the writing style. After a few chapters however, I got the distinct feeling that the writing was pretentious. It was unnecessarily wordy. The author seemed to be trying to impress with her vocabulary and word use. I love words, but using large words just to prove you can, in a story where the characters are not likely to express themselves thusly, is unnecessary and in this case effected the flow of the story. As it wore on, I found myself caring less and less about any of the characters or where the story was headed. I just wanted it to end. Over use of descriptions, and retelling of past events in the character's lives that added nothing to the story, started to feel more like "filler" and "playing for time". Speaking of time -- this is not worth taking time away from other selections on your To-Read shelf.
A moving account of a brother and sister’s seemingly idyllic childhood ceding to tragedy in adult life. Ava Manseau has come to visit her brother, Fred, at the correctional facility where he is being held on suspicion of murder. Ava is determined to clear Fred’s name, but at the same time she is wary of her desire to turn this unexpected incident into some tidy memoir, “molding the fluid stuff of life into form.” Although I preferred the contemporary storyline and rather wearied of constant flashbacks, the ambiguous picture of Ava and Fred’s half-feral childhood is worthwhile.
Recommended for fans of emotionally challenging family stories, and those with an interest in experimental methods of education (there’s a Rousseau connection here). Natasha Soobramanien’s Genie and Paul is another wonderful take on the brother-sister dynamic, also inspired by a classic of French literature.
This book was another unexpected surprise. If you read the synopsis, you could think this was going to be a who-dunit or a crime novel - it is not. This book is truly what literary fiction should be. Expertly written and deeply felt. Cohen's placement of words on the page is akin to a master artist's application of paint on a canvas. Oftentimes her turn of phrase would make me stop in my tracks and say "wow". It took me a bit longer to get through this book, but in retrospect this is not a novel I would have wanted to rush through. The writing is just that good that the extra time to savor Cohen's superb craftsmanship was well worth it. I will not give any spoilers away but if you do not finish this book to the very last page, you will be missing out - big time. Highly recommend.
This isn't the book I thought it would be, which may be why I was so disappointed with it. About 1/3 the way through I started to skim, then skip whole chapters. Everything went so slowly. Details were rehashed over and over again (we get it, they had a floral couch!). It had so much potential but really went no where.
Because I’d loved The Grief of Others by this author, I decided to take a chance here, despite the fact that the plot description seemed to lack appeal. While it didn’t grab me at the outset, little time elapsed before I was thoroughly on board. This author writes compellingly, and with great skill. She captures scenes as well as uncomfortable moments and humorous situations with precision. For instance, there are ‘….snowy fields bathed in a thin broth of winter sun’. And ‘ Outside the kitchen window the day looks as though it’s been drawn with a crayon, the sky bright and scrubbed, the branches stiff at attention’. The small, commune sort of setting seemed truly unique, enfolding free roaming children in a progressive school, which was constrained by neither boundaries nor structure. The liberal founders, somewhat hippie-like, believed passionately in this type of approach, and were convinced that, by allowing the students to explore and develop independently, they would learn valuable life lessons. No books were needed, and in fact were discouraged. The small cast of memorable characters soon found their way into my heart. Moving back and forth in time effectively, the plot unfolds at a deliberate pace, revealed though a single chapter devoted to each of the principals. As the older child of the educators, Ava is happy enough with her circumstances initially, and she is very protective of her younger brother Fred, who is challenged in many ways with an undiagnosed disability. In truth, their parents refuse to recognize his impairment. The children grow up, the story builds gradually but suspense is not the driving factor. I just found myself caring a lot. This author possesses a powerful emotional sensitivity. There is wry humor as well. Consider the following excerpt describing the office of the court ordered attorney: ‘………..the desk and various tables and chairs, none of which, other than the secretary’s recent perch, is available for its usual purpose, each being overwhelmed by Pisa-esque towers of books, folders, binders, notepads and general flotsam. The chair nearest me holds a partly used ream of copy paper, a car charger, and a white paper bag emblazoned JABOLONSKI & Bros. PHARMACY.’ Leah Hager Cohen has an ability to draw the reader in, to establish a common thread. At one point in the story, a memorial service takes place. As someone sniffles, there is the following thought: ‘How many in this room are thinking of someone else right now? Are we not guided in our grief by the constellation of associations sorrow brings’. Wise and true. The writing is so very fine! I will treasure this one as well. 4 or 5 stars
I really liked this book. Cohen did a good job addressing, without completely resolving, some challenging emotional issues. As Ava says in her conclusion: "For why are we here if not to try to fathom one another? Not through facts alone, but with the full extent of our imaginations." Cohen weaves a story (and discusses Ava's storytelling throughout) that seeks to understand the other while reconciling the self within the greater picture.
In Ava, Cohen creates a very likeable, yet odd, main character. Ava is burdened by Fred (and in large part by Neel and June's lack of responsibility for him), but she almost uncomplainingly accepts this burden as her right. It is in small part her reward for experiencing Fred in his fullness. She paints a picture of Fred as ultimately loveable despite (and because of) his handicap.
I was not sure that I liked the change in narration. In part, I found it annoying that we went from first person to third person omniscient for the Dennis, Kitty, and Fred chapters. But, then I chuckled at Ava's explanation at the end and was satisfied that it was in fact a unique way to tell the story.
In thinking back (after learning that Ava is really the narrator throughout), I was surprised at Dennis's assessments. Ava does not really present herself as attractive, yet clearly Dennis is enamored. Similarly, I was not sure from either Ava or Kitty's descriptions why Kitty would be such a faithful friend (or what Kitty would really see in Ava). Interestingly, Ava's chapters seem to be less critical of Ava than those from Kitty's perspective. I was not sure if this was Ava's insecurities coming out in her portrayal of Kitty or if they were Kitty's critiques. Fred seemed more capable and "on the ball" than I expected, but again this might simply be because Ava was better able to understand him and gave him benefit of the doubt that others may not have done.
Neel and June's parenting styles made me think of old college discussions on anarchy. The idea that humans reject constraints and lack of constraint allows us all to reach our full potential is not one to which I have ever subscribed. Rather than seeing a rejection of rules as free, I agree with Ava's question: "Does the concept of such freedom apply when custom, pretense and expectation have never been yours to reject?" I don't think that Neel and June were enlightened; I think they were indulgent and neglectful.
Clearly, institutionalization and labeling handicapped people is almost never a good solution, but leaving Fred to his own devices (or settling him with the drug-dealing Dave) was far from correct. While in the home, Ava took on the responsibility of Fred, but once she was gone she was able to distance herself from this burden. Paradoxically, Ava's relationship with Dennis is one in which she "could take care of him by letting him feel he was taking care of me." It is almost as if once she was out from under the obligation that she had felt since Fred was born she began to take on more of his characteristics herself.
Overall, I found it to be a compelling, entertaining, and heartbreaking novel. This is not one the ends happily; instead, it is a book that reeks of truth.
Ava and Fred Robbins grew up surrounded by woods and lovely places to explore. They had the freedom to wander, as their parents schooled them at home in an experimental fashion. Their parents believed that the best learning comes through experience. "No Book but the World: A Novel" is set somewhere in upstate New York, in a place called Batter Hollow. Clustered around the compound that is now a defunct school were buildings with names like The Annex and Art Barn. After the school shut down, families lived in the cottages, including the Robbins and Manseau families. Dennis and Kitty were two of the Manseau children.
But something was not right with Fred. And apparently there was no diagnosis, as this freedom also extended to a life without labels.
Now Ava and Fred are adults, and a tragedy results in Fred's arrest. Ava leaves her home and her husband for a time to drive up to Perdu, where he is in jail, to try to help "explain" Fred to his attorney. But in the process, she realizes that much of her childhood is unexplainable.
Narrated in four sections from the perspectives of Ava, Dennis (her husband), Kitty (her best friend & sister-in-law), and Fred, we discover bits and pieces of what that world was like through their eyes and their memories of that time.
Was it really all that idyllic? What emotions are now aroused for each of them as Fred's situation turns even more serious?
I liked Ava, who suffered from a feeling of responsibility for Fred, something that had informed her life even in adulthood. Dennis, as Kitty's older brother, had seemed an unlikely spouse for Ava, but he had a special understanding of her experiences. His kindness and empathy made him a likeable character. However, I found Kitty to be condescending, with a superior and antagonistic attitude. Her master's degree in psychology lent an expertise to her approach, but sometimes it seemed to merely hide her arrogance. I had to wonder if she was covering something through this defensive posture. In the flashbacks to their childhood, there was a kind of cruelty in Kitty's behavior, perhaps covering her discomfort with Fred and with the Robbins approach to parenting.
As the story winds down, inexplicable events turn everything we thought we'd sorted into more of a puzzle. With just a few words, the author turns it all upside down. As we contemplate what life was like for these characters, we learn some conclusions in Ava's voice, as she dismisses the notion of freedom, in terms of her parents' efforts to provide it:
"I see now they were mistaken. We are none of us free. We are tethered by our connections to other people, those we know as well as those we will never meet. What tethers us is our ability—our responsibility—to imagine them, to fathom their lives, their circumstances, what we have in common, what sets us apart."
With these thoughts to ponder, I conclude the story with a final word: what is truth, what is imagining, and what memories can we trust? This story is one that will linger in my memory. 4.5 stars.
‘No Book but the World,’ by Leah Hager Cohen Take an arresting theme, what happens to children raised in a "Summerhill" type of environment, then screw it up with some dreadful creative writing class prose and you'll have No Book but the World. The prose ranges from deeply mauve to downright swampy The writer has no depth, except in the places she'll take her reader.Just when you think you have a plot or a character going, she pulls the carpet out presse-presse. Be it car accident or sex scene, nothing is safe from Cohen's amateurish rhetorical excursions into the banal. In one lesbianette childhood reflection I expected the La's "There She Goes" to interweave into the dialogue.
I should mention that one of the main characters is retarded-differently abled-autistic-cognitively fucked, or something. Cohen never names it. Get it? It's all part of the pseudo-Rousseauian framework. She evens stoops to the lowest rung on the fiction ladder with a "and I never told them my name" ending wherein she reveals -oh my god- that she was all of the voices in the novel and she made it up! Excuse me. She goes even one step further on the fiction road to hell with "I have a letter" right before the main character commits suicide. (Was it his creativeness or his despair? The woman has no shame.) Had she been honest in her multi-narraratives, she might have had a novel, albeit a shaky YA that stinks of the skanky and unfinished. And of course, she is a creative writing teacher.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I wish this book had gone somewhere else. And I failed to see the point of Ava's "confession" although I sense it was the point the book couldn't make without it. In other words, I wish the author had been talented enough to make the point without gratuitously telling us that the story was made up. The book was fiction. The whole story was made up. Ava's "confession" that she was the "voice" behind the sections about Kitty and Fred seems like cheating. I also felt that the incidents in Midgetroplis were supposed to somehow foreshadow what happened to Fred in the end, but damned if I know how. In short, I think this book, if better crafted, could have been quite special. But it wasn't. So, a disappointment.
I am afraid I didn't like it. Ava and her autistic brother Fred were raised by odd parents who let the kids run wild and not really be educated- "no book but the world". The parents refused to have him checked and really didn't provide guidance, leadership, or training. As a result, the two kids grew up as oddities. The parents are gone now and it is on Ava's shoulders to help the brother she tries to protect. Fred is locked up in the county jail, accused of murdering a boy. The autistic Fred is not really able to navigate the situation so Ava runs to help.
This book just feels weird and rather pretentious. Just not my cup of tea.
If there is one thing I can take from this book, it is this; no one is truly free. We are all connected to each other, and our each and every action affects everything else. It is something I think about often. In this book, Cohen writes about a non-traditional family who doesn’t believe in rules, and who raises their two children to learn from the world around them. Ava is the daughter who is telling the story and Fred is her brother. This is really Fred’s story. He is autistic, however he has never been diagnosed because of the way he was raised. As an adult, something terrible happens and Fred is blamed for a crime. Ava tries to find the real story. The book started a little slow for me, but I soon was caught up in it. It didn’t have much action - it was more of a thought provoking book, but certainly worth the read. I would give this book 3.5 stars.
I received an advanced reader copy of this book from Library Thing in exchange for a review.
This novel has some lovely sentences and general word play.
The plot and characters are full and melancholy and thoughtful. It's just a mystery novel really, that goes mostly unsatisfied. As mysteries sometimes do in real life.
Siblings Ava and Fred had a father, Neel, who believed in Rousseau’s saying “Let there be no book but the world”; he did not believe in conventional schooling but felt that children should be encouraged but not taught, allowing them to explore and learn on their own. He did not like books; learning from books was secondary rather than primary learning. Thus they were allowed to run free in the woods on the property of his former school, where they lived, with no instruction. When a new family moved into one of the former school buildings, Ava and the daughter, Kitty, became instant friends, and, when Kitty started to school, Ava insisted on enrolling as well. Given Neel’s insistence on children doing what they wanted, he was trapped into allowing her to do so. Fred followed, but didn’t last long before his behavior returned him to roaming the woods on his own. He showed signs of being on the autism spectrum and possibly developmentally delayed, but Neel refused to take him to a doctor to see what the problem was and if he could be helped. He was not non-verbal, but usually only Ava could understand him.
When as an adult Ava learns that Fred is being held on suspicion of murdering a boy, she attempts not just to find out what happened, but wonders about what obligations his family had to him. Were his parents wrong in how they brought him up? Should June, his mother, insisted on treatment instead of going along with her husband? With their parents dead, was Ava obligated to take care of him? Would Fred have led a better life had he been diagnosed and treated? What obligations does the family have to society?
The story is told in sections: Ava, her husband Dennis (who is also Kitty’s brother and has known Ava and Fred since they were kids), Kitty, Fred, and Ava again. They all have different takes on their childhoods and on Fred’s life. No one sees themselves as other see them. The book asks a lot of questions about responsibility and family ties. It’s engrossing and sensitive.
I have loved the novels of Leah Hager C0hen, she writes so compellingly of emotional issues, and her characters are so real and endearing. This one is a little harder to love so intensely, for me. Ava and Fred are the children of free-thinking parents. In today's vernacular, they would be called "home schooled". The children learn by running free through the woods that surround their home, experimenting and exploring, hence the title--No Book But the World. The parents are of course well-meaning, but it is fairly obvious at an early stage in the story that they have no understanding of the long term repercussions for their children. Both children are somewhat odd, isolated, but Ava is very bright and seems to overcome her past, and then to take command of decision making for her own life, even when she must oppose her father. Fred, however, has many difficulties, with learning, with social interactions, and becomes more and more isolated and lost in his own world. His parents never acknowledge his struggles, have him tested or do anything to help him. As an adult, Fred flounders, with no resources, no real support system, and no clue of how to make any changes. This was a sad take on parents who may believe they are doing the very best for their children by protecting them from the outside world, but who in the end condemn them to a life of of alienation, and complete bewilderment at the world.
I am not officially reviewing this but got my hands on an arc through a friend. I would give it 3 1/2 stars. I don't normally like going between past and present in novels, it is fitting in this story. Ava examines her free schooling past to try and understand how her troubled brother ended up at the heart of a crime involving the death of a young boy. It shows how having a carefree, unstructured upbringing may not always be the best for every child. It is an exposure of how denying problems can have grave consequences. More than anything, it begs the question 'am I my brother's keeper'? Just how much responsibility does one have for their sibling, particularly when there is no one else? Often children who are the stronger sibling are raised to care for the weaker, and while there is love, there is also resentment. It is a tender exploration of family love. I was left with a sour taste about the parents lazy ways, when Fred needed guidance. The cover art is misleading, this isn't some sweet little story, it is dark. The ending will weigh heavy on the reader's heart. One can't help but feel for both Ava and her brother, who certainly seemed to have some sort of unnamed disability. How different the outcome had his needs been better met.
The title of this book is taken from Rousseau’s philosophy of education that children should learn by free exploration of the world rather than sitting at desks learning from books. And the main characters, siblings, Ava & Fred experience just such an unconventional childhood as a result of their parents’ belief in this ideal. It is a beautifully written & thoughtful story told by a grown-up Ava through her own eyes & the experiences of others close to her. Because of their wild & carefree upbringing, Ava & Fred are very close & due to Fred’s disability, Ava is very protective of him. But as their lives lead them in different directions, they drift apart until the day comes when Fred is arrested for murder. Ava is shaken to the core & does whatever it takes to unravel the mystery & save her brother.
The idea of this book sounded so good. It sounded like a good mystery story with family stuff. But I just couldn't get into it. The plot was taking a while to get going, and there were so many flashbacks, it was hard to keep track of what was present and past. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere, the story would jump and go back in time. I wanted to like this book, but I really didn't. I couldn't finish it, and I usually finish books I have for review. Sadly, this one will go to the pile of books not finished.
This is a book about the relationships, or lack of, among a group of characters taking part in an experimental upbringing. The main character is the sister of a boy with autistic-like behaviors, though the author never defines him as such. The parents are ideologues who seem to have no interest beyond their own beliefs. If it weren't for the exquisite writing I would have given this a lower rating because like the character of the brother, the author didn't seem to want to connect with the reader, or maybe that was her intention.
The plot just seems to tread water and I felt nothing for the lead character/s at all.
It is as if Ms Cohen was determined to make it a cerebral writing exercise and sealed all the characters in a bubble and watch them go round and round.
The story of a brother and sister who shared an unconventional childhood as the subjects of their father's educational experiment. How does the past inform the present and what is the truth behind the suspicious death of a 12 year-old boy?
Ava and Fred are raised outside of 'the system', in accordance with their parents' theory that children should discover the world instead of having it explained to them. Their father also dislikes conformity of all sorts, and discourages them from being part of any group of citizens.
Autistic Fred would have been an outsider regardless of how he was raised, but Ava has mainstream desires for friendship and belonging. Ava soon takes a stand for these things and receives a mainstream education, yet her early childhood has left her unable to do more than mimic the little behavioural 'tells' that would allow her to truly fit in. Fortunately for the needs of the book, this has left Ava in the position of a bridge between the 'normal' world and that of Fred.
From the very start, we know that Fred has been imprisoned for the death of a young boy who had disappeared. Such a crime would of course make the populace united in hatred of anyone, and Fred almost exactly fits the stereotypical description of someone they would expect to be guilty: a 'vagrant', a 'loner', 'drawn to children'. Even from our less emotional perspective, we readers can only go so far as to say that the blame is perhaps not on Fred, rather on the others in his life who failed both him and society.
Ava's husband is something of the opposite of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope ("Steady Helpful Acceptance Boy"?), and provides her with the stability and belonging she desperately wants -- so much so that she is terrified that Fred might spoil it. Does this cause her to neglect her responsibility to Fred? If she hadn't, might the boy still be alive, and Fred free?
The narration is third-person, with each section told from the point of view of one character, and very much sympathetic to that character's particular understanding. The narration is so sympathetic to each chapter's main character that it struck me as odd that it wasn't written as first-person narrative. There is a theme throughout of how poorly we communicate with each other. Experiences that are meant to be fun turn unexpectedly sour due to some misunderstood intent; experiences that seem doomed to misunderstanding occasionally become happy shared memories.
Overall, the book is not an exciting page-turner. It just sinks in slowly and gives you something to think about. The writing is excellent throughout, and there are no pointless sections -- it was pared down to the essentials. If you are in the mood to read something that is a slow burn, this book should be worth your while.
This novel about the two children of an experimental school founder in rural upstate New York takes its title from the work of Jean-Jacques Rousseau and refers to the belief that children should learn in a natural manner by experiencing the world rather than being taught. As adults, Ava and Fred bear the marks of their parents’ freeform upbringing, as well as the impact of their differing personalities. Fred suffers from some never-identified disability that makes him bang, bounce, drool, shy away from contact, and stumble in speech. As the story begins, Ava tries to help him after he is arrested for a possibly horrific crime in the wake of a young boy’s death in the wilderness. As Ava and three other characters narrate the story, the reader sees flashbacks to their childhood at the old school site of Batter Hollow, the push and pull between their parents Neel and June, and the childhood games Ava and her friend Kitty played with Fred – some not so harmless.
Cohen’s writing is descriptive and synesthetic, as shapes become colors and sounds become smells. The amorphous imagery is well-adapted to the children’s free upbringing and idiosyncratic personalities. Fred himself emerges as the quintessential Rousseauian wild child, unknowable, but fully immersed in bodily sensations and solitary surroundings. But is he an innocent or capable of criminal acts? Is he free or imprisoned? Ava herself isn’t sure. And Ava fears, too, that she is more like Fred than she wants to be -- always the outsider. Buoyed up by the love of her husband, Dennis (Kitty’s older brother), and the help of a geriatric public attorney in the town where Fred has been arrested, she makes headway in coming to terms with her relationship to her brother and deepening her understanding of him. “Isn’t this really what he desired, to change the state of things?” she reflects, “As a way of validating his presence, his mattering” (283). But the sudden turn at the end of the novel snatches satisfaction from the reader, especially due to the author’s sudden unmasking of her characters’ disparate voices.
Fred and Ava were raised by two parents who were VERY unconventional. Fred was the youngest. He also had issues that wouldn't allow him to behave as others. It was never defined in the book, because that would go against their father's theories of raising children, but it sounded as if Fred had some form of autism. Ava, being the eldest, always felt protective over Fred, even when she was tired of him. Fred is in jail for his alleged involvement in the death of a minor. Ava goes to the town where he's in jail to visit with his lawyer. Ava knows people don't understand Fred and how he is so she's trying to make him known to Bayard Charles, Fred's defense attorney. Did he have anything to do with the boy's death? Was it an accident? Was it natural causes?
Thinking about the story in retrospect, it was interesting and uniquely done. Ava, being the narrator, was the most fleshed-out character in the book. I would've liked to have known more about her parents, but that would've made the book longer than I would've wanted to read. I didn't hate the book but I didn't love it either. However, it did make me think. Overall, I'd give No Book but the World three stars.
This is a book about Ava and Freddy. Brother and sister. They grow up in a free school in the woods. Their parents believing that children should grow up without formal education. Well it works good for Freddy because he is autistic. Ava on the other hand likes structure and demands to go to formal school and finally gets to go.
Freddy is never formally diagnosed because they don't believe in doctors. Freddy grows up loving his sister roaming the forest by his house and basically being a loner.
When their father passes away the mother makes arrangements for Freddy to stay with a former grown student. So Freddy wont be alone when she dies. Ava gets married and doesn't want to bring her brother Freddy into her marriage.
So he ends up being accused of a crime and he drops through the cracks of society. No one made arrangements that were permanent for Freddy and he is alone in the world. This is what I know about Freddy: He loves Ava his sister His favorite book is The Little Prince He's not much with words He likes Captain Crunch He has a favorite Stick he likes to carry with him He laughs with others when they are laughing at him He likes grape jelly in single serve containers and syrup from restaurants he has a pocket knife that was his dad's His has his mom's handwritten maps he is capable of despair.
This is not an uplifting read so in these times maybe, not one to choose to lighten the mood. The story is told by Ava and she is one of the main characters. Her parents ran a Free school taught themselves and were allow complete freedom. It closed down. Ava nad her mentally challenged brother, Fred continued to be schooled in this way. They were joined by a couple of other families but didn't really have any formal education until Ava insisted on going with the daughter of one of the other families, Kitty.
The story is centred around this lifestyle and childhood memories as Ava thinks back over hers and Fred's lives.
Fred is accused of murdering a young boy and Ava is trying to help him as she doesn't believe he could have done this.
The story kept moving enough to keep me wanting to read but was not a page-turner. It left me with kind of empty feeling, sad and unresolved. I think if you had an interest in schooling, special needs or alternative living then you might find it interesting. I would certainly read another book by the author as it was well written and at times, almost poetic in its descriptions.
Who could resist this beautiful cover and equally lovely language within? When I began homeschooling in the 90's I was fascinated with the research I did on alternative forms of education, including the Summerhill School, which this book is loosely based on. Founded in 1921 by Alexander Sutherland Neill, Summerhill School was based on the belief that school should be made to fit the child, rather than the other way around. This extended to the freedom for pupils to choose which lessons, if any, they attend. Schools in America opened in the 1960's based on Summerhill. Cohen's story of a family practicing this type of alternative schooling could have been enthralling. Instead, she loses the nuances of the characters and the story in long drawn-out descriptions of things and places I didn't care about and ended up skimming through. Questions about the brother are never clearly answered and the ending didn't make sense at all. A redeeming value for me? A renewed interest in this fascinating school. Summerhill is now a boarding and day school run by Neill's daughter, Zoë Readhead. Yes, READHEAD. You can't make this stuff up.