I received a free e-ARC through NetGalley from the publishers at Macmillan Children’s Publishing Group/Farrar, Straus, and Giroux. I fell in love with Dellaira’s writing from the first time I read Love Letters to the Dead, and I’ve read it several times since. I was so excited to get a copy of her new book!
Angie has never known her father. Raised by a single mother, Marilyn, who would do anything for her, she still feels as though an important part of herself is missing. Her dad was African American, her mother white, and there are things about growing up as a mixed-race child that Marilyn could never understand. Teenaged Marilyn dreamed only of getting out from under her mother’s oppressive illusion of making her a famous actress and going away to college. She wasn’t planning to meet James and fall in love, and she was never planning to raise their child without him. When Angie discovers that Marilyn may have been lying about her father’s death, she travels to L.A. with a friend in the hopes of finding him–and herself.
This book is really well done. The chapters alternate between Angie in the present, searching for her family in L.A., and Marilyn in the past when she met and fell in love with James. While the chapter lengths vary (a lot), it doesn’t seem to throw off the pacing, and I enjoyed the subtle crossover between the past and present–little things that Angie and James have in common, pieces of him that Marilyn passed along to her without her ever knowing. The novel really emphasizes how important personal history is. Angie’s big question is: if we don’t know our pasts and our parents’ pasts, can we ever really know ourselves?
Dellaira’s writing is as solid and beautiful as it was in Love Letters to the Dead, and I’m still in love with her style. I highlighted so many things as I was reading; it’s such a quotable book. I did have a small problem with the present tense. The entire novel, even Marilyn’s sections which are technically in the past, is written in present except for when the characters are reflecting on something, and the transitions are awkward. This is usually the kind of thing I stop noticing as I get further into a novel, but I didn’t. More than once, it jarred me right out of the story.
I really enjoyed Angie’s search for her history and the tension set up by being a mixed race child with a white mother, and those continual microagressions about how they can’t be related because they don’t look alike are especially poignant. Angie and Marilyn’s relationship is also really well done, and it’s nice to see a functional mother/daughter relationship that still has its problems (and works through them). Angie’s love interest is so bland though. There’s nothing wrong with Sam, but I was bored every minute of page time they spent together and had no interest in their little dramas.
I think this is why I found Marilyn’s sections so much more compelling than Angie’s. By comparison, Marilyn and James’s romance is the breath-stealing one in the book. Marilyn’s circumstances with her mother and her racist, alcoholic uncle are so much more dire, and James the far more interesting and well-developed character. While Marilyn gets Angie out of everything, it’s painful to know that their love story doesn’t work out. We don’t know quite why or how it doesn’t–whether James died in a car accident like she said, whether he’s still alive somewhere, or whether something else entirely happened–but we know that James isn’t there for Angie’s life. It’s an unexpectedly heavy novel, but it handles its issues with sensitivity and a deft hand. I would definitely re-read and recommend.
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