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Quiver
A compelling YA novel exploring the unlikely friendship between Libby, the oldest child in a rural Tennessee family of strict evangelical Christians, and Zo, her gender fluid new neighbor.
Set in rural Tennessee, QUIVER by Julia Watts is a brilliant YA novel that focuses on the unlikely friendship between two teens from opposite sides of the culture wars. Libby is the oldest child of six, going on seven, in a family that adheres to the "quiverfull" lifestyle: strict evangelical Christians who believe that they should have as many children as God allows because children are like arrows in the quiver of "God's righteous warriors." Like the other families who adhere to this philosophy, Libby's family regards the father as the "Christian patriarch" and leader and the mother as the "helpmeet" who gives birth to, cares for, and homeschools the children. Meanwhile, Zo is the gender fluid offspring of Libby's new neighbors who have moved to the country from Knoxville in hopes of living a slower-paced, more natural life. Zo and hir family are as far to the left ideologically as Libby's family is to the right, and yet Libby and Zo, who are the same age, feel a connection that leads them to friendship—a friendship that seems doomed from the start because of their families' differences. Through deft storytelling, built upon extraordinary character development, author Watts offers a close examination of the contemporary compartmentalization of social interactions, and forms a story that resonates far beyond its pages.
Set in rural Tennessee, QUIVER by Julia Watts is a brilliant YA novel that focuses on the unlikely friendship between two teens from opposite sides of the culture wars. Libby is the oldest child of six, going on seven, in a family that adheres to the "quiverfull" lifestyle: strict evangelical Christians who believe that they should have as many children as God allows because children are like arrows in the quiver of "God's righteous warriors." Like the other families who adhere to this philosophy, Libby's family regards the father as the "Christian patriarch" and leader and the mother as the "helpmeet" who gives birth to, cares for, and homeschools the children. Meanwhile, Zo is the gender fluid offspring of Libby's new neighbors who have moved to the country from Knoxville in hopes of living a slower-paced, more natural life. Zo and hir family are as far to the left ideologically as Libby's family is to the right, and yet Libby and Zo, who are the same age, feel a connection that leads them to friendship—a friendship that seems doomed from the start because of their families' differences. Through deft storytelling, built upon extraordinary character development, author Watts offers a close examination of the contemporary compartmentalization of social interactions, and forms a story that resonates far beyond its pages.
324 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 16, 2018
15 people are currently reading
2193 people want to read
About the author
Julia Watts
31 books119 followersJulia Watts is the author of over a dozen novels, including the Lambda Literary Award-winning Finding H.F.., the Lambda Literary and Golden Crown Literary Society Award finalist The Kind of Girl I Am, and the Lambda Literary Award finalist and Golden Crown Literary Award-winning Secret City. She holds a B.A. in English from The University of Tennessee, an M.A. in English from the University of Louisville, an MFA in Writing from Spalding University, and a PhD in Literacy Studies from The University of Tennessee. She lives in Knoxville and is a member of the East Tennessee Writers Hall of Fame. Her young adult novel, Quiver, was a SIBA Okra Pick and a finalist for the Foreword Indies Award, and her young adult novel Needlework won an Honorable Mention in the Foreword Indie Awards and was selected by the Library of Congress for its "Great Reads from Great Places" program. Her new novel for adults, Lovesick Blossoms, is available from Three Rooms Press.
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September 14, 2019
"Is it impossible for two people on such opposite sides of things to become friends? Maybe we could be like two sides of a vinyl record, not opposites so much as complementary." - Zo Forrester's musings, page 52
Quiver is narrated in alternating chapters by two teenagers who represent a world of differences.
Liberty 'Libby' Hazlitt is sixteen, the oldest of six kids with a seventh soon on the way, growing up in an intentionally-isolated Christian patriarchal family in rural Tennessee. She's homeschooled, tasked with being a third parent to her siblings, and doesn't have contact with the outside world other than Sunday mornings at church. Her direction in life - as outlined by her domineering father - is to soon be placed into an arranged marriage and then to have as many children (the 'quiverfull' theological position that provided inspiration for this book's title) as possible as a stay-at-home wife / mom. While Libby respectfully honors her parents she internally begins to question this set way of life.
The catalyst for change would be Zo Forrester. Zo is of similar age, but from a progressive / liberal family hailing from a nearby city. They purchased a farmhouse - the property borders the Hazlitts' - to live a quieter, slower-paced life. Tomboyish Zo fully marches to the beat of her own drummer, as evidenced by her devotion to David Bowie's androgynous years and his music. She describes herself thusly "Sometimes I feel like a boy in lipstick . . . Sometimes I feel like I don't even have a gender . . . I'm fine with all of this." Zo is completely at ease with her fluidity and freedom, but it throws Libby for a loop. Still, since they're the only teenagers for the lonely miles around they easily become fast friends.
While it was predictable that the families would experience a clash of cultures - with each father standing their respective ground over long-entrenched beliefs, and Libby quickly being forbidden from any contact with the Forrester family - the final 60 pages of the story were just outstanding with the admittedly soap-opera but no less heavily dramatic developments. A very serious situation that has been slowly percolating throughout suddenly reaches a crisis point. Decisions have to be made. Help has to be sought. The way some of the many characters respond or even rise to the occasion is truly heartwarming or reassuring. Change is now on the horizon in multiple ways. Quiver may be classified as YA fiction, but it is appropriate and entertaining for both teenagers and adults.
Quiver is narrated in alternating chapters by two teenagers who represent a world of differences.
Liberty 'Libby' Hazlitt is sixteen, the oldest of six kids with a seventh soon on the way, growing up in an intentionally-isolated Christian patriarchal family in rural Tennessee. She's homeschooled, tasked with being a third parent to her siblings, and doesn't have contact with the outside world other than Sunday mornings at church. Her direction in life - as outlined by her domineering father - is to soon be placed into an arranged marriage and then to have as many children (the 'quiverfull' theological position that provided inspiration for this book's title) as possible as a stay-at-home wife / mom. While Libby respectfully honors her parents she internally begins to question this set way of life.
The catalyst for change would be Zo Forrester. Zo is of similar age, but from a progressive / liberal family hailing from a nearby city. They purchased a farmhouse - the property borders the Hazlitts' - to live a quieter, slower-paced life. Tomboyish Zo fully marches to the beat of her own drummer, as evidenced by her devotion to David Bowie's androgynous years and his music. She describes herself thusly "Sometimes I feel like a boy in lipstick . . . Sometimes I feel like I don't even have a gender . . . I'm fine with all of this." Zo is completely at ease with her fluidity and freedom, but it throws Libby for a loop. Still, since they're the only teenagers for the lonely miles around they easily become fast friends.
While it was predictable that the families would experience a clash of cultures - with each father standing their respective ground over long-entrenched beliefs, and Libby quickly being forbidden from any contact with the Forrester family - the final 60 pages of the story were just outstanding with the admittedly soap-opera but no less heavily dramatic developments. A very serious situation that has been slowly percolating throughout suddenly reaches a crisis point. Decisions have to be made. Help has to be sought. The way some of the many characters respond or even rise to the occasion is truly heartwarming or reassuring. Change is now on the horizon in multiple ways. Quiver may be classified as YA fiction, but it is appropriate and entertaining for both teenagers and adults.
October 17, 2018
Liberty "Libby" Hazlett is the oldest six kids (soon to be seven). She is part of an evangelical Christian family who practices the Quiverfull lifestyle--having as many kids as God deems they should. The father is the head of the family and his wife and children (especially the girls) should do everything he says, no matter what. Libby and her siblings are home-schooled and rarely see anyone outside of their family and church. So when a new family moves next door, it's a pretty big deal. Zo and her family are not exactly in the same vein religiously or politically as Libby's family. Still, Libby and Zo become fast friends--a friendship that may be cursed from the start. Spending time around Zo's family is eye-opening for Libby. But no one challenges Libby's father or their religion in her family. What does it mean for Libby that she's questioning her faith? And what will the repercussions be?
"It's all over the Bible--'be fruitful and multiply' and then there's Psalm 127 that says that children are like a warrior's arrows and 'blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.' Some families like ours call themselves Quiverfull for that reason."
This was a really interesting, eye-opening, and sometimes scary novel. It was very well-written, and I really enjoyed it. A huge thanks to LibraryThing to introducing me to Julia Watts and her work. This novel is told in varying viewpoints between Libby and Zo, highlighting the stark contract between their upbringing and the way the two girls look at the world. It does an excellent job at showing how religion shapes your thought.
For Libby, her religious family is basically her entire life. We see how differently boys and girls are treated in her family, with the girls serving as helpmates in every way. She is not allowed any independent thought and is completely indoctrinated in her family's evangelical religion. Any thoughts she has that differ from her family's way of life make her feel strange and scared--and stepping out of line in any way means punishment. Even worse, she can't see any way out. Even though she doesn't want to, her future is set: getting married and having babies in the name of God.
Libby was so wonderfully written, and my heart ached for her. Watching her confront what she was taught, seeing her yearn for a different life--it really opened my eyes to how hard it must be for so many kids raised in religious homes. It's so easy to be derisive about religious views with which you don't agree, but the book did such an excellent job showing how Libby didn't have a choice: religion was such a part of her life from the moment she was born.
Zo's character was great, too. She didn't always seem as fleshed out to me, but it was refreshing to see a gender fluid character in YA literature. She was very down-to-earth, and it was nice to see her sexuality not be her defining characteristic. I also enjoyed how very feisty she was:
"The fact that Mr. Hazlett justifies his dictatorship through religion makes me think of all the families and communities and countries that have been torn apart because of people who claimed to be acting in the name of God."
This was a lovely book, which even had some surprises. It made me want to cry at times and laugh at others. It's very well-written and so beautiful to read. The subject matter is different, well-worth reading, and wrapped up in a very entertaining and interesting story. It certainly gets you thinking, plus it's very hard not to fall for Libby and Zo, too. 4+ stars.
I received a copy of this novel from LibraryThing and Three Room Press in return for an unbiased review - thank you!
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"It's all over the Bible--'be fruitful and multiply' and then there's Psalm 127 that says that children are like a warrior's arrows and 'blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.' Some families like ours call themselves Quiverfull for that reason."
This was a really interesting, eye-opening, and sometimes scary novel. It was very well-written, and I really enjoyed it. A huge thanks to LibraryThing to introducing me to Julia Watts and her work. This novel is told in varying viewpoints between Libby and Zo, highlighting the stark contract between their upbringing and the way the two girls look at the world. It does an excellent job at showing how religion shapes your thought.
For Libby, her religious family is basically her entire life. We see how differently boys and girls are treated in her family, with the girls serving as helpmates in every way. She is not allowed any independent thought and is completely indoctrinated in her family's evangelical religion. Any thoughts she has that differ from her family's way of life make her feel strange and scared--and stepping out of line in any way means punishment. Even worse, she can't see any way out. Even though she doesn't want to, her future is set: getting married and having babies in the name of God.
Libby was so wonderfully written, and my heart ached for her. Watching her confront what she was taught, seeing her yearn for a different life--it really opened my eyes to how hard it must be for so many kids raised in religious homes. It's so easy to be derisive about religious views with which you don't agree, but the book did such an excellent job showing how Libby didn't have a choice: religion was such a part of her life from the moment she was born.
Zo's character was great, too. She didn't always seem as fleshed out to me, but it was refreshing to see a gender fluid character in YA literature. She was very down-to-earth, and it was nice to see her sexuality not be her defining characteristic. I also enjoyed how very feisty she was:
"The fact that Mr. Hazlett justifies his dictatorship through religion makes me think of all the families and communities and countries that have been torn apart because of people who claimed to be acting in the name of God."
This was a lovely book, which even had some surprises. It made me want to cry at times and laugh at others. It's very well-written and so beautiful to read. The subject matter is different, well-worth reading, and wrapped up in a very entertaining and interesting story. It certainly gets you thinking, plus it's very hard not to fall for Libby and Zo, too. 4+ stars.
I received a copy of this novel from LibraryThing and Three Room Press in return for an unbiased review - thank you!
Blog ~ Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Google+ ~ Instagram
July 2, 2018
You say helpmeet, I say handmaid.
(Full disclosure: I received a free e-ARC for review through Edelweiss. Trigger warning for misogyny, homophobia, and domestic violence.)
-- 4.5 stars --
Liberty Hazlett is the oldest of six children. Well, seven counting the baby on the way. Nine with the two angel babies that died in utero. Each child is named after a Christian virtue: Justice, Patience, Faith, Valor, Charity. They live in rural Tennessee, where father James has his own small business (Hazlett and Sons Pest Control), and mother Becky homeschools them. The kids (the girls in particular) have little contact with the outside world, and their everyday lives are strictly regulated. (For real: they're allowed ten minutes for a shower, as "it’s not good to stay in the bathroom too long because it leads to temptation").
Libby and her family are part of the Quiverfull movement: a Christian patriarchy that doesn't practice any form of birth control, including so-called "natural family planning." (Think: the Duggars.) Rather, they "trust the Lord" to give them as many children as he desires/thinks they can handle - each of which is to become an arrow in the Lord's quiver, a Christian soldier in His army, hence the sect's (read: cult's) name.
At sixteen years old, Libby is barreling towards marriageable age. This means wedding a virtuous Christian man of her father's choosing; accepting her husband as the head of the household; and obeying him in all matters, from sex to finances to child rearing...even what opinions she should adopt on any given topic under the Heavens. It also means churning out children like a baby factory, until her body wears out. Only, pray as she might, Libby doesn't want this life for herself. She knows it's sinful, but she has two eyes and a fully functioning brain, and she can see the toll it's taking on her mother.
Zo Forrester and her family - younger brother Owen and parents Jen and Todd - just moved into "the old Dobbins place" next door. Life in Knoxville was wearing them all down, so they traded it in for a simpler existence in the country. Todd traded in his nursing job for one at the department of health, and Jen homeschools the kids and does some weaving on the side.
The Hazletts might define Zo as an uppity young heathen woman, but Zo's gender identity is more complicated than all that: she's gender fluid.
In contrast to the "tragic queer" narratives that dominate fiction (yes, LGBTQ folks face higher levels of violence across the board, and it's important to explore this - but we need uplifting, happy stories, too!), the Forresters are incredibly accepting of both their kids. They're also super-progressive and open-minded, basically the exact opposite of Lord James, so much so that I wish they could retroactively and imaginarily adopt me.
For reasons that no doubt include loneliness and isolation, the Hazlett and Forrester kids - Libby + Zo and Val + Owen in particular - are drawn to each other, despite their differences. Even the women find companionship and understanding in their unlikely friendship. At first, Mr. Hazlett allows limited socialization, viewing it as a means to an end: namely, converting the sinners next door. But when an ice cream social goes sideways, he forbids his family from having anything to do with them. But teens are gonna teen, am I right?
I thought I'd like Quiver - I have a strange can't-look-away, car-accident fascination for the Quiverfull movement - but it's even better than I expected. Libby and Zo are complex, compelling protagonists; no surprise there. But Becky has great backstory that's equal amounts engaging and depressingly predictable. (Just look at the Jonestown recruits.) Jen and Todd are both awesome too; how could you not love a dad who describes himself as a "feminist vegetarian atheist socialist who votes for Democrats because that’s the best you can hope for in this country" and "believe[s] in labor unions, gun control, LGBTQIA equality, contraception, and separation of church and state." Like I said, adopt me please!
The story is told from the alternating perspectives of each girl; given their radically different worldviews (or indoctrination, in Libby's case), it's really neat to read such different accounts of the same event. Watts paints each girl with depth and nuance, which is no small feat in Libby's case - she could all too easily become a caricature. Tattletale/Little Miss Perfect Patience kind of skirts that line, but I feel like the ending really speaks to the complete and utter indoctrination she's experienced. I felt rather bad for her by the last page. Again, no small feat, since she acts like such a terrible sister/daughter/Sister throughout the book.
As someone who's been on the atheist/Zo side of the friendship equation, there was actually quite a bit to which I could relate here. Additionally, the idea of showing civility towards uncivil people - people who would kidnap migrant children and keep them in cages, for example - is especially relevant now. (As I write this, it is the last day of June, and #KeepFamiliesTogether protests are happening around the world.) Regarding the 'rents, most of whom were trying to "be civil" for the sake of their kids' friendships, should one really smile and nod when a Mr. Hazlett tells your wife to shut up because women aren't allowed to have opinions? Should you smile and nod even if it's his own wife he's talking to?
In sum, Quiver is entertaining and engaging and even kind of fun, between the depressing and infuriating bits. Most of all, it's hecka relevant today, which is perhaps the most depressing and infuriating thing of all.
That said, I really wish the Forresters had adopted their bunnies instead of buying them from a breeder. Not cool, guys. Also Daiya cheese exists and it is AWESOME. You can even make your own vegan mozzarella nowadays, Jen. Please allow me to recommend The Cheesy Vegan , by John Schlimm.
http://www.easyvegan.info/2018/10/23/...
(Full disclosure: I received a free e-ARC for review through Edelweiss. Trigger warning for misogyny, homophobia, and domestic violence.)
Mr. Hazlett’s getting worked up, too. A vein in his forehead bulges disturbingly. “In a Christian home, the man is like God, and his wife is the holy church.”
Dad laughs out loud. Maybe a little too loud. “So you get to be a deity, and she just gets to be a building?”
I don’t know what shocks me more—my grandmother cursing or hearing her say I have the right to choose what to do with my life.
-- 4.5 stars --
Liberty Hazlett is the oldest of six children. Well, seven counting the baby on the way. Nine with the two angel babies that died in utero. Each child is named after a Christian virtue: Justice, Patience, Faith, Valor, Charity. They live in rural Tennessee, where father James has his own small business (Hazlett and Sons Pest Control), and mother Becky homeschools them. The kids (the girls in particular) have little contact with the outside world, and their everyday lives are strictly regulated. (For real: they're allowed ten minutes for a shower, as "it’s not good to stay in the bathroom too long because it leads to temptation").
Libby and her family are part of the Quiverfull movement: a Christian patriarchy that doesn't practice any form of birth control, including so-called "natural family planning." (Think: the Duggars.) Rather, they "trust the Lord" to give them as many children as he desires/thinks they can handle - each of which is to become an arrow in the Lord's quiver, a Christian soldier in His army, hence the sect's (read: cult's) name.
At sixteen years old, Libby is barreling towards marriageable age. This means wedding a virtuous Christian man of her father's choosing; accepting her husband as the head of the household; and obeying him in all matters, from sex to finances to child rearing...even what opinions she should adopt on any given topic under the Heavens. It also means churning out children like a baby factory, until her body wears out. Only, pray as she might, Libby doesn't want this life for herself. She knows it's sinful, but she has two eyes and a fully functioning brain, and she can see the toll it's taking on her mother.
Zo Forrester and her family - younger brother Owen and parents Jen and Todd - just moved into "the old Dobbins place" next door. Life in Knoxville was wearing them all down, so they traded it in for a simpler existence in the country. Todd traded in his nursing job for one at the department of health, and Jen homeschools the kids and does some weaving on the side.
The Hazletts might define Zo as an uppity young heathen woman, but Zo's gender identity is more complicated than all that: she's gender fluid.
Being a lesbian was really important to Hadley, and she wanted me to say I was one, too. But if I said I was a lesbian, I’d be saying I was a 100 percent girl who only liked other 100 percent girls, and I couldn’t say that. Sometimes I feel like a boy in lipstick. Sometimes I feel like a girl with a bulge in her jeans. Sometimes I don’t even feel like I have a gender—that the body that contains my personality is no more significant than the jar that holds the peanut butter. I’m fine with all of this, but Hadley wasn’t.
In contrast to the "tragic queer" narratives that dominate fiction (yes, LGBTQ folks face higher levels of violence across the board, and it's important to explore this - but we need uplifting, happy stories, too!), the Forresters are incredibly accepting of both their kids. They're also super-progressive and open-minded, basically the exact opposite of Lord James, so much so that I wish they could retroactively and imaginarily adopt me.
For reasons that no doubt include loneliness and isolation, the Hazlett and Forrester kids - Libby + Zo and Val + Owen in particular - are drawn to each other, despite their differences. Even the women find companionship and understanding in their unlikely friendship. At first, Mr. Hazlett allows limited socialization, viewing it as a means to an end: namely, converting the sinners next door. But when an ice cream social goes sideways, he forbids his family from having anything to do with them. But teens are gonna teen, am I right?
I thought I'd like Quiver - I have a strange can't-look-away, car-accident fascination for the Quiverfull movement - but it's even better than I expected. Libby and Zo are complex, compelling protagonists; no surprise there. But Becky has great backstory that's equal amounts engaging and depressingly predictable. (Just look at the Jonestown recruits.) Jen and Todd are both awesome too; how could you not love a dad who describes himself as a "feminist vegetarian atheist socialist who votes for Democrats because that’s the best you can hope for in this country" and "believe[s] in labor unions, gun control, LGBTQIA equality, contraception, and separation of church and state." Like I said, adopt me please!
The story is told from the alternating perspectives of each girl; given their radically different worldviews (or indoctrination, in Libby's case), it's really neat to read such different accounts of the same event. Watts paints each girl with depth and nuance, which is no small feat in Libby's case - she could all too easily become a caricature. Tattletale/Little Miss Perfect Patience kind of skirts that line, but I feel like the ending really speaks to the complete and utter indoctrination she's experienced. I felt rather bad for her by the last page. Again, no small feat, since she acts like such a terrible sister/daughter/Sister throughout the book.
As someone who's been on the atheist/Zo side of the friendship equation, there was actually quite a bit to which I could relate here. Additionally, the idea of showing civility towards uncivil people - people who would kidnap migrant children and keep them in cages, for example - is especially relevant now. (As I write this, it is the last day of June, and #KeepFamiliesTogether protests are happening around the world.) Regarding the 'rents, most of whom were trying to "be civil" for the sake of their kids' friendships, should one really smile and nod when a Mr. Hazlett tells your wife to shut up because women aren't allowed to have opinions? Should you smile and nod even if it's his own wife he's talking to?
In sum, Quiver is entertaining and engaging and even kind of fun, between the depressing and infuriating bits. Most of all, it's hecka relevant today, which is perhaps the most depressing and infuriating thing of all.
That said, I really wish the Forresters had adopted their bunnies instead of buying them from a breeder. Not cool, guys. Also Daiya cheese exists and it is AWESOME. You can even make your own vegan mozzarella nowadays, Jen. Please allow me to recommend The Cheesy Vegan , by John Schlimm.
http://www.easyvegan.info/2018/10/23/...
October 7, 2018
I loved the premise of this book: two teenagers from "opposite sides of the culture wars" end up as neighbours and ultimately friends. Zo is a genderfluid teen from a super-left-wing household, while Libby comes from a strict Christian family where girls are confined to traditional gender roles. Libby is homeschooled due to her family's distrust of the secular world, while Zo is homeschooled due to social difficulties at school—I was expecting this to mean bullying based on her gender identity, but it actually turned out she was just suffering from a bad breakup, which seemed like a less plausible motivation.
The story was compelling and I often found myself reading for far longer than I'd intended. I particularly liked seeing Zo and Libby get to know each other at the beginning, and I appreciated the backstory of Libby's mother.
But I was somewhat disappointed by the ending of the book, and in a way I felt like it betrayed the whole premise. I can't really say more without spoilers, but I would have preferred to see the story go in a different direction. It would have been nice to see the issue treated with more nuance.
It's clear from the outset that this book can't really treat both sides in a balanced way, because Zo's whole existence is anathema to her neighbours. And despite my complaints, I did get some satisfaction from the ending. I just would have preferred some more subtle exploration of people's shifts in perspective. Because ultimately, if the message is that , then that really doesn't offer any comfort in the current political climate.
So I have complicated feelings about this book, but it's a complicated topic. I did enjoy it while reading, and I'm glad I read it. I'd recommend it to others. Maybe the underlying issue is just too complex to be resolved to my complete satisfaction.
The story was compelling and I often found myself reading for far longer than I'd intended. I particularly liked seeing Zo and Libby get to know each other at the beginning, and I appreciated the backstory of Libby's mother.
But I was somewhat disappointed by the ending of the book, and in a way I felt like it betrayed the whole premise. I can't really say more without spoilers, but I would have preferred to see the story go in a different direction. It would have been nice to see the issue treated with more nuance.
It's clear from the outset that this book can't really treat both sides in a balanced way, because Zo's whole existence is anathema to her neighbours. And despite my complaints, I did get some satisfaction from the ending. I just would have preferred some more subtle exploration of people's shifts in perspective. Because ultimately, if the message is that , then that really doesn't offer any comfort in the current political climate.
So I have complicated feelings about this book, but it's a complicated topic. I did enjoy it while reading, and I'm glad I read it. I'd recommend it to others. Maybe the underlying issue is just too complex to be resolved to my complete satisfaction.
April 18, 2024
recommended for anyone who enjoyed the “shiny happy people” documentary, or other stories that critique organized religion and Christian fundamentalism. Julia Watts does an incredible job of keeping her story character-driven and simple — it’s told in alternating first-person POVs, and both Libby and Zo were highly engaging narrators — but still profound.
June 27, 2022
One of my favorite books of 2022!
October 14, 2019
Everyone once in a while, it's nice to read a fluffy, predictable, easy, happily-ever-after YA. And for a change, it's not even a romance. There is a romantic subplot, but it's negligible and easy to gloss over.
Everything in this story went exactly as I predicted it would, but I didn't mind because I was looking for a cute LGBT-centric book like that.
Everything in this story went exactly as I predicted it would, but I didn't mind because I was looking for a cute LGBT-centric book like that.
November 14, 2018
I have long hankered for a YA Quiverfull novel (yes, I know my reading interests are a little...odd...sometimes), and between Quiver and The Book of Essie (which I have yet to read but have out from the library), I think I may finally have gotten what I was looking for.
Quiver is the story of Libby and Zo: Zo's family believes in women's rights, LGBTQIA rights, vegetarianism, and Democratic candidates. Libby's family believes that the government (including anything like hospitals) is too corrupt to trust, that women are meant to be subservient to their husbands (and fathers, and brothers), and that God wants good Quiverfull evangelicals to have as many children as humanly possible. It is not, shall we say, a match made in heaven—but when Zo's family moves in next door to Libby's family, Zo and Libby get to know each other after all, and what they find surprises them both.
What I loved here is how understated the book is. It would have been really easy to go over the top, to make either family—or both families—into caricatures. Instead they're carefully balanced: on opposite ends of a spectrum, sure, but still deeply human. Both sets of adults understand that the other set believes themselves to be on the right side of things. Better, some of the biggest things that could blow up and be wildly dramatic are allowed to stay in the background, leaving room for subtler moments. A (dare I say it?) lesser book, for example, would have considered a romance between Libby and Zo, or at least a crush; Quiver doesn't touch that, because Zo is mature enough to know that (even if there were any interest on either side) a romance there would be a Bad Idea and because Libby is just not in a place to even consider whether she might be something other than heterosexual.
If I have a criticism, it's that some of the pieces at the end were too easy. In particular, . But if that's the worst the book is doing, then it's doing really damn well.
Quiver is the story of Libby and Zo: Zo's family believes in women's rights, LGBTQIA rights, vegetarianism, and Democratic candidates. Libby's family believes that the government (including anything like hospitals) is too corrupt to trust, that women are meant to be subservient to their husbands (and fathers, and brothers), and that God wants good Quiverfull evangelicals to have as many children as humanly possible. It is not, shall we say, a match made in heaven—but when Zo's family moves in next door to Libby's family, Zo and Libby get to know each other after all, and what they find surprises them both.
What I loved here is how understated the book is. It would have been really easy to go over the top, to make either family—or both families—into caricatures. Instead they're carefully balanced: on opposite ends of a spectrum, sure, but still deeply human. Both sets of adults understand that the other set believes themselves to be on the right side of things. Better, some of the biggest things that could blow up and be wildly dramatic are allowed to stay in the background, leaving room for subtler moments. A (dare I say it?) lesser book, for example, would have considered a romance between Libby and Zo, or at least a crush; Quiver doesn't touch that, because Zo is mature enough to know that (even if there were any interest on either side) a romance there would be a Bad Idea and because Libby is just not in a place to even consider whether she might be something other than heterosexual.
If I have a criticism, it's that some of the pieces at the end were too easy. In particular, . But if that's the worst the book is doing, then it's doing really damn well.
April 13, 2018
Watts, Julia. Quiver. Frontlist, 2018.
Libby is the oldest of her family's six children. They live on a remote farm where their mother home schools the children and their father works at his pest control business. They are a Quiverfull family, and thus they believe that the father is the head of the home just as god is the head of the church. Zo just moved next door to Libby. Zo's family is also home schooled, but Zo is genderfluid and her (when pronouns are used for Zo, they are always feminine, so I will continue that practice here) family is vegetarian, feminist, and socialist. Zo's father and mother share equally in parenting duties, neither one promising to "obey" the other one. When Zo and Libby meet, they become fast friends because they are close in age and there's no one else around for miles. But will they be able to overcome their differences and continue their friendship?
Having been raised in a family eerily similar to Libby's and now living much more like Zo, this book was absolutely right up my alley. I appreciated the way the author dealt with Libby's family's beliefs without ridiculing or belittling them. The descriptions of the way the fundamentalist family functioned - from the purity vows of the children to spanking Libby when she disobeyed - definitely rang true. Zo's family also seemed genuine and accurate. I was a bit disappointed that Zo's gender fluidity wasn't given more focus, but this wasn't a story of Zo coming out as gender fluid, and Zo didn't seem to be bothered with people reading her as female. The ending seemed a bit rushed, and while I was glad it was a happy ending, it seemed to be a bit too neatly tied up in a bow to be reality. If this is a stand-alone novel, though, and not the first in a series, it was good to give some closure to the readers. Highly recommended.
Recommended for: teens
Red Flags: Libby's younger sister has some rather "biblical" terms to use in regards to Zo's admission of a past relationship with a girl. Libby's father spanks her with his belt (and requires her to lift her nightgown for this beating). He also storms into the hospital and threatens violence toward several characters.
Overall Rating: 5/5 stars
Read-Alikes: Devoted by Jennifer Mathieu; Evolution, Me, & Other Freaks of Nature by Robin Brande
I received a complimentary copy of this book through Edelweiss for the purpose of review.
Libby is the oldest of her family's six children. They live on a remote farm where their mother home schools the children and their father works at his pest control business. They are a Quiverfull family, and thus they believe that the father is the head of the home just as god is the head of the church. Zo just moved next door to Libby. Zo's family is also home schooled, but Zo is genderfluid and her (when pronouns are used for Zo, they are always feminine, so I will continue that practice here) family is vegetarian, feminist, and socialist. Zo's father and mother share equally in parenting duties, neither one promising to "obey" the other one. When Zo and Libby meet, they become fast friends because they are close in age and there's no one else around for miles. But will they be able to overcome their differences and continue their friendship?
Having been raised in a family eerily similar to Libby's and now living much more like Zo, this book was absolutely right up my alley. I appreciated the way the author dealt with Libby's family's beliefs without ridiculing or belittling them. The descriptions of the way the fundamentalist family functioned - from the purity vows of the children to spanking Libby when she disobeyed - definitely rang true. Zo's family also seemed genuine and accurate. I was a bit disappointed that Zo's gender fluidity wasn't given more focus, but this wasn't a story of Zo coming out as gender fluid, and Zo didn't seem to be bothered with people reading her as female. The ending seemed a bit rushed, and while I was glad it was a happy ending, it seemed to be a bit too neatly tied up in a bow to be reality. If this is a stand-alone novel, though, and not the first in a series, it was good to give some closure to the readers. Highly recommended.
Recommended for: teens
Red Flags: Libby's younger sister has some rather "biblical" terms to use in regards to Zo's admission of a past relationship with a girl. Libby's father spanks her with his belt (and requires her to lift her nightgown for this beating). He also storms into the hospital and threatens violence toward several characters.
Overall Rating: 5/5 stars
Read-Alikes: Devoted by Jennifer Mathieu; Evolution, Me, & Other Freaks of Nature by Robin Brande
I received a complimentary copy of this book through Edelweiss for the purpose of review.
June 25, 2019
I picked up "Quiver" because one of the local library branches had it on their June Pride display. I had not heard of this book and after having read it, I am surprised that more people aren't talking about it especially as it is a LAMBDA Award winner.
This book was beautifully written. It shows respect for all of the aspects of believing in God and not believing. It fleshes out both main characters wonderfully and shows a level of love and acceptance that I wish more people adhered to in the real world.
What it does so well is showing the power that spiritual abuse wields on people. How people can believe that these men who abuse their wives and children are only following "God's word." It shows the damage it causes and how difficult it is to see that abuse from the inside.
There is a quote from the book that encapsulates my take away and the message the book is trying to out forth:
"Does God want me to fight the curious mind, the healthy body and the loving heart that He gave me? Because even though I know Daddy would say different, I don't think my problem is with God. It's with the men who think they speak for Him and the women who obey those men without question."
Highly recommend.
Rating: 5 out of 5 stars.
Book #2 of June/Pride readathon.
This book was beautifully written. It shows respect for all of the aspects of believing in God and not believing. It fleshes out both main characters wonderfully and shows a level of love and acceptance that I wish more people adhered to in the real world.
What it does so well is showing the power that spiritual abuse wields on people. How people can believe that these men who abuse their wives and children are only following "God's word." It shows the damage it causes and how difficult it is to see that abuse from the inside.
There is a quote from the book that encapsulates my take away and the message the book is trying to out forth:
"Does God want me to fight the curious mind, the healthy body and the loving heart that He gave me? Because even though I know Daddy would say different, I don't think my problem is with God. It's with the men who think they speak for Him and the women who obey those men without question."
Highly recommend.
Rating: 5 out of 5 stars.
Book #2 of June/Pride readathon.
September 3, 2018
I enjoyed this young adult book that explores the lives of two homeschooling families living in rural Tennessee: the Hazletts, a family of evangelical Christians, and the Forresters, a family of liberal/progressive "crunchy granola types." Libby Hazlett (the (mostly) dutiful oldest daughter of seven Hazlett children) and Zo Forrester (the gender-fluid older child of two Forrester children) become close friends despite the families' differences.
The book is surprisingly empathetic towards both families, and for a time, one wants to believe that these two ways of life can coexist. But of course the conservative Hazlett family and the progressive Forreseters inevitably clash. Although parts of the novel are a bit pat, I thought that it did a surprisingly good job of showing both sides of today's "culture wars" and trying to bridge the gap between different views and lifestyles.
The book is surprisingly empathetic towards both families, and for a time, one wants to believe that these two ways of life can coexist. But of course the conservative Hazlett family and the progressive Forreseters inevitably clash. Although parts of the novel are a bit pat, I thought that it did a surprisingly good job of showing both sides of today's "culture wars" and trying to bridge the gap between different views and lifestyles.
February 6, 2019
This was so so sweet. I finished it in two days! A heartwarming story that discusses religion and gender fluidity and sexism. I would give it a complete five starts except it is really more like a 4.5 because of one of my pet peeves: CW: assault
January 30, 2019
This ticked all the boxes for me as an ex-Mormon gender-whatever southern person.
March 23, 2019
what a well-written, thought-provoking read. at first I was wary given the subject matter but everything is so accurate and well done. definitely going to check out the author's other work now!!
December 27, 2019
Do you ever read a book that references so many of your niche interests that it’s weird it exists?
Quiver is that, for me.
Quiver is narrated by two teenage neighbors, who, at first glance, couldn’t be more different.
– Zo Forrester is genderfluid. The Forresters are vegetarians. They aren’t religious. Zo’s dad is a nurse.
– Liberty “Libby” is the eldest child in a Quiverfull family (like the Duggars of 19 Kids and Counting). Her mom is going through an especially rough pregnancy. The treatment for her symptoms is prayer, because Libby’s dad distrusts conventional medicine. Bible study and homemaking are central to Libby’s homeschooling.
When Zo’s family moves in next door, Libby is exposed to ideas her father has purposefully distanced their family from, deeming them worldly and sinful.
I expected to love this, and then I did! I have a morbid fascination with evangelical offshoots like the Christian patriarchy movement. I love a good cult (book). That said, I like that Quiver’s critiques of religion are more nuanced than “Christianity = bad for women.” Instead, Watts speaks specifically about how men use the Quiverfull ideology to rule over their families through fear and control.
The contrasting cultures of origin between Zo and Libby—and their emerging friendship despite this—allow for layered exploration of gender and sexuality. Quiver is a testament (no pun intended) to how meeting people who accept themselves can help you learn to accept parts of yourself you’ve previously been afraid to even acknowledge.
Before I urge everyone to read this, I should note that I came in with some background knowledge of Quiverfull Christianity. Readers without that will likely find some of this shocking. If, for whatever reason, you’re not in the right headspace to read about religion being invoked to justify abuse, skip this one. Even so, I’d recommend Quiver to fans of Educated, or The Book of Essie, or Let's Call It a Doomsday, or Autoboyography, or The Poet X, or The Benefits of Being an Octopus, or…you get it.
Quiver is that, for me.
Quiver is narrated by two teenage neighbors, who, at first glance, couldn’t be more different.
– Zo Forrester is genderfluid. The Forresters are vegetarians. They aren’t religious. Zo’s dad is a nurse.
– Liberty “Libby” is the eldest child in a Quiverfull family (like the Duggars of 19 Kids and Counting). Her mom is going through an especially rough pregnancy. The treatment for her symptoms is prayer, because Libby’s dad distrusts conventional medicine. Bible study and homemaking are central to Libby’s homeschooling.
When Zo’s family moves in next door, Libby is exposed to ideas her father has purposefully distanced their family from, deeming them worldly and sinful.
I expected to love this, and then I did! I have a morbid fascination with evangelical offshoots like the Christian patriarchy movement. I love a good cult (book). That said, I like that Quiver’s critiques of religion are more nuanced than “Christianity = bad for women.” Instead, Watts speaks specifically about how men use the Quiverfull ideology to rule over their families through fear and control.
The contrasting cultures of origin between Zo and Libby—and their emerging friendship despite this—allow for layered exploration of gender and sexuality. Quiver is a testament (no pun intended) to how meeting people who accept themselves can help you learn to accept parts of yourself you’ve previously been afraid to even acknowledge.
Before I urge everyone to read this, I should note that I came in with some background knowledge of Quiverfull Christianity. Readers without that will likely find some of this shocking. If, for whatever reason, you’re not in the right headspace to read about religion being invoked to justify abuse, skip this one. Even so, I’d recommend Quiver to fans of Educated, or The Book of Essie, or Let's Call It a Doomsday, or Autoboyography, or The Poet X, or The Benefits of Being an Octopus, or…you get it.
October 16, 2018
4.5 stars.
Quiver by Julia Watts is a thought-provoking young adult novel that explores fundamental Christianity and gender-fluidity.
Sixteen year old Liberty "Libby" Hazlett is the oldest of six (soon to be seven) children. Her family is part of the "Quiverfull" sect of Christianity in which birth control is eschewed, the children are home-schooled by their mother and their father rules the home with an iron fist. Libby, her siblings and her mother live an isolated, insular life although her father works in the secular world. Libby does little thinking for herself since she is fully indoctrinated by her father's teachings about the sinful world outside their community. She is close to her mother who is forbidden from working outside the home yet Libby is nervous about what the future holds for her: marriage and childbearing. When new neighbors move in next door, the Hazlett family surprisingly befriends them but what effect will this outside influence have on Libby and the rest of the family?
Zo Forrester is Libby's age and due to both her and her brother Owen's recent troubles and her father's hectic work schedule, her parents have decided a slower way of life would benefit everyone. Zo and Owen are home-schooled but their schedule is more flexible than Libby's. Zo and her family are quite liberal and her parents are very accepting of their daughter's gender fluidity. And yet, Zo and Libby form a fast friendship that easily transcends their differences.
Needless to say, the two families ideologies are so far apart that it is rather shocking they get along. However the Forrester/Hazlett friendship comes to an abrupt end with the two extremely opinionated and vocal patriarchs clash when the two families are spending an evening together. Although they are no longer allowed to see each other, Zo's influence has had a surprising effect on Libby who begins questioning her long held beliefs. As her mother begins preparing her and her younger sister for courting, marriage and motherhood, Libby's doubts about her father's teachings grow. Her friendship with Zo is important, yet going against her father's wishes is unthinkable. Or is it?
Quiver is an absolutely outstanding young adult novel which features a topical and provocative storyline. All of the characters are extremely well-drawn with realistic shortcomings and enviable strengths. Julia Watts does an exemplary job with her portrayal of the Quiverfull movement. The novel comes to an unexpected conclusion that is quite uplifting. I highly recommend this insightful novel to older teens and adult readers.
Quiver by Julia Watts is a thought-provoking young adult novel that explores fundamental Christianity and gender-fluidity.
Sixteen year old Liberty "Libby" Hazlett is the oldest of six (soon to be seven) children. Her family is part of the "Quiverfull" sect of Christianity in which birth control is eschewed, the children are home-schooled by their mother and their father rules the home with an iron fist. Libby, her siblings and her mother live an isolated, insular life although her father works in the secular world. Libby does little thinking for herself since she is fully indoctrinated by her father's teachings about the sinful world outside their community. She is close to her mother who is forbidden from working outside the home yet Libby is nervous about what the future holds for her: marriage and childbearing. When new neighbors move in next door, the Hazlett family surprisingly befriends them but what effect will this outside influence have on Libby and the rest of the family?
Zo Forrester is Libby's age and due to both her and her brother Owen's recent troubles and her father's hectic work schedule, her parents have decided a slower way of life would benefit everyone. Zo and Owen are home-schooled but their schedule is more flexible than Libby's. Zo and her family are quite liberal and her parents are very accepting of their daughter's gender fluidity. And yet, Zo and Libby form a fast friendship that easily transcends their differences.
Needless to say, the two families ideologies are so far apart that it is rather shocking they get along. However the Forrester/Hazlett friendship comes to an abrupt end with the two extremely opinionated and vocal patriarchs clash when the two families are spending an evening together. Although they are no longer allowed to see each other, Zo's influence has had a surprising effect on Libby who begins questioning her long held beliefs. As her mother begins preparing her and her younger sister for courting, marriage and motherhood, Libby's doubts about her father's teachings grow. Her friendship with Zo is important, yet going against her father's wishes is unthinkable. Or is it?
Quiver is an absolutely outstanding young adult novel which features a topical and provocative storyline. All of the characters are extremely well-drawn with realistic shortcomings and enviable strengths. Julia Watts does an exemplary job with her portrayal of the Quiverfull movement. The novel comes to an unexpected conclusion that is quite uplifting. I highly recommend this insightful novel to older teens and adult readers.
September 10, 2019
A book I never would have heard of without Goodreads, and had to buy for Kindle as soon as I read its synopsis, I read this unique YA novel straight cover to cover in just over 3 hours this morning. It's a compelling read for someone who is a political lefty like myself, but who also has an absurd fascination with cults and the Duggar family on TV. The story centers around the friendship of Libby, the oldest daughter in a fundamentalist Christian family who follows the Quiverfull movement (like the Duggars), and a gender fluid , David Bowie obsessed city-girl transplant named Zo who moves in next door with her hippie-ish, aetheist left wing family. Both girls arw homeschooling for different reasons, and despite huge differences in their upbringings they forge a bond. The book's message and tone os one of tolerance; bit the portrayal of Libby's dad shows that the fundamentalist lifestyle is inherently intolerant amd later in the book, dangerously so. Without spoiling, O can say that I thought the supporting characters could have been more nianced, and I would have liked to seen more humanized versions of them (other than of Libby, that is), but for a YA novel, the lack of nuance may have been more appropriate for the points the author was going for-- I suspect I would have enjoyed an a book written for adults but with the same characters and even the same storyline, more/enough for a 5 star review. That said, the book is captivating and well paced, and I really liked it. 4 stars. Recommended for fans of unique, contemporary/realistic YA.
March 3, 2019
This book will drive you crazy if you don’t like a lot of rushed exposition and there is also a hint of tokenism going on, but it does ultimately get points for diverse characters and for being a deeply unique story in YA. I thought the beginning was whack but I got more and more into it as the book went on just because the storyline about the religious family kept getting more wild (note, it’s about a family in the Christian Patriarchy movement and you have to know this is considered extremism or else it first feels like a really weird and reductive idea about very religious and conservative people). The most interesting part was religious Libby’s perspective, probably worth it for that alone.
October 16, 2018
I don't usually read YA lit, but I was given this ARC by a friend who recommended it. And I have to agree, this book was riveting, well written and difficult to put down. The story is of a "quiver-full" family, who lives next door to a very liberal family. They share some values- homeschooling their children, being resourceful, old arts - in general, a fondness for homesteading. The conflict arises quickly, however, when the fathers start a conversation about women's roles. The children are then forbidden to play together, and some surprising events result.
I liked how the writer didn't exaggerate the quiver-full family, how she made the narrative realistic and didn't resort to easy blanket statements. She told the story through the oldest daughters' perspectives, Libby the quiver-full family's daughter, and Zo, the gender fluid daughter of the modern family. Watts did an excellent job. The only part I thought was a bit too neat was how things sort of quickly got tidied up at the end. Very good read.
I liked how the writer didn't exaggerate the quiver-full family, how she made the narrative realistic and didn't resort to easy blanket statements. She told the story through the oldest daughters' perspectives, Libby the quiver-full family's daughter, and Zo, the gender fluid daughter of the modern family. Watts did an excellent job. The only part I thought was a bit too neat was how things sort of quickly got tidied up at the end. Very good read.
January 7, 2021
I could not put this down.
August 30, 2019
GAH! This book was awesome. I have a bit of an obsession with the Quiverfull people (like the Duggars, those families who believe the are breeding an army for "god"). This book reminds me of some of my "favorite" fundie families who are leading their own religious cults. It's YA, so it's easy to read. I read it in a single sitting last night.
July 21, 2019
This book was tough to digest at the beginning due to the rigid ness of one Christian family. I am Christian and I dislike when religion. Is used against the person to portray them as stupid or ignorant. But, as I keep reading, I realized that the other family was being portrayed as stereotypically as the Christians. It took me a bit of time to wrestle past these stereotypes to get to the meat of the story, but at the heart of it all was a beautiful friendship between two people. And, friendships demonstrate the way all of humanity should treat one another—regardless of beliefs. This book is a great co versatile starter:
June 8, 2021
I read Quiver in part to fill a hole in my reading experience. I had never read a novel with a gay protagonist, let alone a gender-fluid one (except maybe in science fiction). I was curious how they would appear on the page. I think that Quiver did a pretty good job of answering my question. Zo, the character in question, is amazingly self-aware and certain of herself, especially for a 16-year-old. It was somewhat hard for me to reconcile her maturity with her backstory. (As the book begins, she is on the rebound from a bad break-up.)
But in the end, it doesn't really matter because this book isn't about Zo. It's about Libby (short for Liberty), the girl next door who lives in a strict fundamentalist household, where the children are brought up to be Christian soldiers, or arrows in the quiver of God. One of my chief complaints about the novel is that Zo has essentially no character development. In chemical terms, she is the catalyst for an explosion; she starts it but is otherwise unaffected by it. She befriends Libby ... and no, not even in "that" way ... and then the father next door finds out, and then big changes occur. But not to Zo. She hooks up with another girl, a trans girl named Claire, her family moves back to Knoxville, and that is that. You can see the unimportance of Zo's story in the distribution of chapters. Initially, the author devotes three chapters to Libby, three to Zo, three to Libby, and so on -- but then she just runs out of Zo story, and starts giving her only one chapter at a time before cutting back to Libby.
As for Libby's story, I think that the book's great strength is its portrayal of her gradual awakening. The author portrays the religious family very sympathetically at first, which surprised me. That makes it all the more effective when Libby starts to feel torn between two lives. On the one hand she has been brought up to see Zo's life as sinful, but on the other hand she has a simple human desire to make a new friend and find out more about the world outside rural Tennessee. When she finally does break away, there are some great surprises in store. I won't say more because of spoilers, but it turns out that not everybody in her family is as obedient to church doctrine as they seem to be.
In the end I wasn't really satisfied by the book, but that's not entirely this book's fault. I would have loved the book to say something about Tolerance. How can we live side by side with people who have a worldview that is totally incompatible with our own? It just happened that I was reading at the same time about the Thirty Years War in Germany in the 1600s. It was a time when there were several factions of Christianity in Europe, all of which thought that they were right and the others were wrong. Some of the refugees from that conflict came to America and promoted a revolutionary idea, that you could have a country without a dominant religion, a country where people with different beliefs could tolerate one another.
Do you see where I'm going? We've lost that country. We've forgotten what tolerance means. And you won't find an answer in this book. In "Quiver," there are only two ways to deal with people you disagree with: Convert 'em, or rescue 'em. That's great if there is someone who needs to be rescued, like Libby. But I think it would be very disrespectful toward religious people to say that they all need rescuing.
The third option is to find a way to live with them. But that isn't what happens in this book. Zo's family flee from the hinterlands back to Knoxville, and we're supposed to be happy with that.
Tolerance can seem like a pretty mild virtue, until you think of the millions of lives that were lost because people could not tolerate others who were different. Tolerance doesn't get the same respect that Love does. Maybe the most important line in the book is spoken by a character I will not mention (spoilers!): "I don't think God put us here to judge each other. I think He put us here to love."
That's great if the person you're talking about is lovable. But what if they are absolutely unlovable? What if everything they do is wrong according to your view of the world? Then I think you need something else, and that is tolerance. Christians need to tolerate sinners, and Woke people need to tolerate unwoke. It goes both ways.
I don't know when I am going to find a great novel about tolerance. "Quiver" isn't it. But at least "Quiver" got me thinking in that direction, so I will give it credit for that.
But in the end, it doesn't really matter because this book isn't about Zo. It's about Libby (short for Liberty), the girl next door who lives in a strict fundamentalist household, where the children are brought up to be Christian soldiers, or arrows in the quiver of God. One of my chief complaints about the novel is that Zo has essentially no character development. In chemical terms, she is the catalyst for an explosion; she starts it but is otherwise unaffected by it. She befriends Libby ... and no, not even in "that" way ... and then the father next door finds out, and then big changes occur. But not to Zo. She hooks up with another girl, a trans girl named Claire, her family moves back to Knoxville, and that is that. You can see the unimportance of Zo's story in the distribution of chapters. Initially, the author devotes three chapters to Libby, three to Zo, three to Libby, and so on -- but then she just runs out of Zo story, and starts giving her only one chapter at a time before cutting back to Libby.
As for Libby's story, I think that the book's great strength is its portrayal of her gradual awakening. The author portrays the religious family very sympathetically at first, which surprised me. That makes it all the more effective when Libby starts to feel torn between two lives. On the one hand she has been brought up to see Zo's life as sinful, but on the other hand she has a simple human desire to make a new friend and find out more about the world outside rural Tennessee. When she finally does break away, there are some great surprises in store. I won't say more because of spoilers, but it turns out that not everybody in her family is as obedient to church doctrine as they seem to be.
In the end I wasn't really satisfied by the book, but that's not entirely this book's fault. I would have loved the book to say something about Tolerance. How can we live side by side with people who have a worldview that is totally incompatible with our own? It just happened that I was reading at the same time about the Thirty Years War in Germany in the 1600s. It was a time when there were several factions of Christianity in Europe, all of which thought that they were right and the others were wrong. Some of the refugees from that conflict came to America and promoted a revolutionary idea, that you could have a country without a dominant religion, a country where people with different beliefs could tolerate one another.
Do you see where I'm going? We've lost that country. We've forgotten what tolerance means. And you won't find an answer in this book. In "Quiver," there are only two ways to deal with people you disagree with: Convert 'em, or rescue 'em. That's great if there is someone who needs to be rescued, like Libby. But I think it would be very disrespectful toward religious people to say that they all need rescuing.
The third option is to find a way to live with them. But that isn't what happens in this book. Zo's family flee from the hinterlands back to Knoxville, and we're supposed to be happy with that.
Tolerance can seem like a pretty mild virtue, until you think of the millions of lives that were lost because people could not tolerate others who were different. Tolerance doesn't get the same respect that Love does. Maybe the most important line in the book is spoken by a character I will not mention (spoilers!): "I don't think God put us here to judge each other. I think He put us here to love."
That's great if the person you're talking about is lovable. But what if they are absolutely unlovable? What if everything they do is wrong according to your view of the world? Then I think you need something else, and that is tolerance. Christians need to tolerate sinners, and Woke people need to tolerate unwoke. It goes both ways.
I don't know when I am going to find a great novel about tolerance. "Quiver" isn't it. But at least "Quiver" got me thinking in that direction, so I will give it credit for that.
January 28, 2019
I picked this up at 11:30pm and was like "it wouldn't hurt to read the first chapter" and then I proceeded to read the whole thing. It is not often that I stay up until 2am reading books, so really, this book is great.
Both of the POV characters are lovely. Zo and Libby share an unlikely friendship, the former as the genderfluid child of some hardcore liberals and Libby the daughter of a controlling fundamentalist family that belongs to the Quiverfull movement. Zo's narrative tends to be about exploring identity and dealing with depression after a hard couple of years in high school, whereas Libby is the dynamic character, slowly realizing that her dad is an authoritarian nightmare. Their desire to be friends, despite Libby's father's disapproval, is heartening and kind, and a great center to the story.
(That said, I think I might be biased towards this book because, while I did not grow up in a religious tradition close to the abuse Libby and her family suffers at the hands of their dad, I've always been fascinated with how Christianity and gender roles work. Libby goes through the most thinking and changing as she escapes the abusive mindset, which is interesting to me; if you're looking for a more dynamic look at Zo and queerness, you could potentially be disappointed.)
The writing is great. I just flew threw it in two and a half hours, as I mentioned. This would be a great book for a plane ride or something.
That said, the plot is both Libby-heavy and also slightly not there? When I was describing this book to a friend, I realized that while I was really engaged, the plot itself is kind of simple and very easy to explain. In some ways, the setup for the book (genderfluid teen meets fundie girl) is the first half of the book, and there are arguably three main plot points after that. I didn't mind it, but it's not a complex story.
Finally, I was surprised by how much I ended up loving Libby's mom by the end of the book. There are a lot of reveals about her by the end, so I will keep my thoughts under the spoiler tag.
Overall, I was impressed. It's a fast read and engages with both spiritual abuse and queerness in such a way that I couldn't put it down.
Both of the POV characters are lovely. Zo and Libby share an unlikely friendship, the former as the genderfluid child of some hardcore liberals and Libby the daughter of a controlling fundamentalist family that belongs to the Quiverfull movement. Zo's narrative tends to be about exploring identity and dealing with depression after a hard couple of years in high school, whereas Libby is the dynamic character, slowly realizing that her dad is an authoritarian nightmare. Their desire to be friends, despite Libby's father's disapproval, is heartening and kind, and a great center to the story.
(That said, I think I might be biased towards this book because, while I did not grow up in a religious tradition close to the abuse Libby and her family suffers at the hands of their dad, I've always been fascinated with how Christianity and gender roles work. Libby goes through the most thinking and changing as she escapes the abusive mindset, which is interesting to me; if you're looking for a more dynamic look at Zo and queerness, you could potentially be disappointed.)
The writing is great. I just flew threw it in two and a half hours, as I mentioned. This would be a great book for a plane ride or something.
That said, the plot is both Libby-heavy and also slightly not there? When I was describing this book to a friend, I realized that while I was really engaged, the plot itself is kind of simple and very easy to explain. In some ways, the setup for the book (genderfluid teen meets fundie girl) is the first half of the book, and there are arguably three main plot points after that. I didn't mind it, but it's not a complex story.
Finally, I was surprised by how much I ended up loving Libby's mom by the end of the book. There are a lot of reveals about her by the end, so I will keep my thoughts under the spoiler tag.
Overall, I was impressed. It's a fast read and engages with both spiritual abuse and queerness in such a way that I couldn't put it down.
September 10, 2019
As someone from East Tennessee and also a former public librarian there, I identified with this book so much! Families like Libby’s are not uncommon here, and I’ve often wondered when they do go into libraries and other public areas, how they view the rest of the world. I loved Zo and her family, and how they took a very objective approach to trying to befriend Libby instead of automatically casting them off as religious zealots. I was very happy Libby, her mother, and some siblings were able to break free from the confines of their father’s beliefs, but does make me think about the many women who aren’t able to leave. All in all, a wonderful read and a dazzling jewel of a book for any collection!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 16, 2018
Libby, short for Liberty, is 16 years old and the oldest of 6 (soon to be 7). What she doesn't have is much freedom. In her strict, evangelical Christian patriarch family, her father is the equivalent of God. She thinks this works, until more contact with her new gender fluid neighbor, Zo, and the outside world, makes her question if it really does. Set in rural Tennessee.
I really enjoyed watching Libby and Zo relate to each other and work on building their friendship while also being two very different people with very different, often oppositional beliefs. I flew through this in one night. Fascinating, both for the look at what Libby's life is like and for how we interact with people who believe different things than us.
I really enjoyed watching Libby and Zo relate to each other and work on building their friendship while also being two very different people with very different, often oppositional beliefs. I flew through this in one night. Fascinating, both for the look at what Libby's life is like and for how we interact with people who believe different things than us.
December 13, 2018
This book is really quite good. I preferred the Libby chapters to the Zo chapters. Libby felt more researched and thought out. The author does highlight a couple of her Quiverfull resources, which I am now totally inspired to go check out myself. What a wild way to approach life. And as always, David Bowie makes everything better.
February 17, 2019
I love this genre of YA novels where two people from seemingly opposed situations find a way into connection and friendship. While others typically stick to one viewpoint (WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO LANI GARVER? comes to mind), this novel is helped by including both Libby's and Zo's voices. Judgment, prejudice, and doubt run both ways in this story, and seeing each character work through their own biases to understand the other brings a lot of power and meaning to their relationship.
That said, I'm used to seeing a lot of hatred against Christianity among queers, though often for good reason, with Christianity being the driving force behind queerphobic laws, attitudes, and promotion of heteronormativity. Maybe I just had the wrong expectations, but I'm a little surprised that Libby's reactions to Zo's queerness had absolutely no relation to the kind of Christian homophobia we're used to. While I appreciated learning more about the Quiverfull lifestyle (albeit informally), it would have been interesting to see this story with Libby coming from a more mainstream Christian denomination. Empathy with a character like that could even be more shocking than this book was. (Tho I'm sure that story already exists and I just need to look for it...)
Overall, it was a great novel, predictable at times but I still enjoyed the ride.
My only quibble are a few references to antisemitic views of the "Old Testament." I know that these are just reflections of actual Christian theology (namely supersessionism), but unlike other mentalities such as misogyny and homophobia that are presented and then doubted, this is left uncriticized, and the unaware reader might not see it for what it is.
That said, I'm used to seeing a lot of hatred against Christianity among queers, though often for good reason, with Christianity being the driving force behind queerphobic laws, attitudes, and promotion of heteronormativity. Maybe I just had the wrong expectations, but I'm a little surprised that Libby's reactions to Zo's queerness had absolutely no relation to the kind of Christian homophobia we're used to. While I appreciated learning more about the Quiverfull lifestyle (albeit informally), it would have been interesting to see this story with Libby coming from a more mainstream Christian denomination. Empathy with a character like that could even be more shocking than this book was. (Tho I'm sure that story already exists and I just need to look for it...)
Overall, it was a great novel, predictable at times but I still enjoyed the ride.
My only quibble are a few references to antisemitic views of the "Old Testament." I know that these are just reflections of actual Christian theology (namely supersessionism), but unlike other mentalities such as misogyny and homophobia that are presented and then doubted, this is left uncriticized, and the unaware reader might not see it for what it is.
July 10, 2018
Being from an extremely religious and at times misogynistic family, this book really struck a chord with me. It was easy to relate to Libby's internal struggle between what she wanted to do and what she thought she had to do to please her family, namely get married and have as many babies as God would bless her with. The oldest of six children, she is already well on her way to learning how to be a good mother and wife by participating in chores, cooking, cleaning, and child-care. She thinks that this will be her life forever.
Then Zo moves in. According to Libby's family standards, she is immodest, immoral, and destined for hell. Little do they know, she is also gender-fluid and has dated women. Against all odds, the two girls become good friends. Even after their fathers get into a big fight and the two girls are expressly forbidden from interacting, they find a way. It was really sweet to read about the power of their friendship, and to see how the two girls were able to overcome their own personal and familial biases to really get to know and like each other.
Their friendship was the redeemer of the novel. Absolutely would recommend the book to anyone, whether they are religious or interested in LGBT literature or young adult or not...everyone should read this book!
Then Zo moves in. According to Libby's family standards, she is immodest, immoral, and destined for hell. Little do they know, she is also gender-fluid and has dated women. Against all odds, the two girls become good friends. Even after their fathers get into a big fight and the two girls are expressly forbidden from interacting, they find a way. It was really sweet to read about the power of their friendship, and to see how the two girls were able to overcome their own personal and familial biases to really get to know and like each other.
Their friendship was the redeemer of the novel. Absolutely would recommend the book to anyone, whether they are religious or interested in LGBT literature or young adult or not...everyone should read this book!
November 26, 2018
Definitely a worthwhile read! There is a balanced portrayal of both a right wing, fundamental Christian family (adhering to the Quiver-full ideology) and a very liberal atheist family. The families shared many characteristics. Both families: homestead, home-school, are loving and close-knit, have women interested in traditional arts, and have strongly opinionated fathers. The children befriend each other and have no trouble talking about and accepting their differences. The mothers are also developing a friendship. The differences, however, prove too much for the fathers and eventually lead to a mandate that the two families are not to interact in any way.
I really wanted this to take a different direction, but in thinking about it (and I have spent A LOT of time thinking about it...) it really couldn't.
I liked the characters, they were very believable. It was great to have a gender fluid character that was integral to the story, but whose story did not revolve around her identity. Recommended read!
I really wanted this to take a different direction, but in thinking about it (and I have spent A LOT of time thinking about it...) it really couldn't.
I liked the characters, they were very believable. It was great to have a gender fluid character that was integral to the story, but whose story did not revolve around her identity. Recommended read!
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