I needed a quiet day today after a very busy and social week, so I sat in the sun in my pyjamas and read Karen Comer’s Grace Notes. And what a pleasure it was. I don’t remember enjoying a verse novel this much in a very long time: often, they have very little relationship to anything I would qualify as poetry, but Comer’s use of recurring images and phrases and her appropriate and at times quite lovely use of imagery and metaphor certainly lifts it above the level of much of the scattered prose that constitutes too many so-called verse novels.
And much as I enjoyed the writing very much at a sentence and even word level, it was the characters and milieu that kept me deeply involved throughout. It might be the first COVID-era fiction I have read, and Comer evoked the period of lockdown so effectively, when I did lift my head out of the book during the course of the day, I found myself feeling/behaving,oddly, as if I were in lockdown. At one point, a noise from out the front of my house even had me momentarily disoriented, briefly thinking I was in the house I lived in in Sydney during COVID, not my new home in Launceston. Yet Comer’s depiction of life in lockdown is anything but heavy-handed, and is all the more authentic for it.
Melbourne YA writers also have an enormous capacity for bringing their city to life in their fiction, especially it seems to me its street culture and artistic sensibility. Grace Notes has this in abundance: its dual narrative first person voices belong respectively to Crux, a 15 year old painter whose great desire is to become a street artist, and Grace, who is equally passionate about music — she is a gifted violinist and singer. The two young artists meet when a video of Grace playing goes viral, and Crux paints her on a (legal) COVID-response street mural.
Of course, they fall in love, and their hesitant first romance is captured beautifully by Comer. There is conflict and separation, of course, but it comes primarily from their parents (and COVID!), who are present, loving, but with firm and clear expectations and boundaries. I particularly liked the depiction of Grace’s “daisy chain” feelings about her mother (“I love her, I love her not”), whose desire to see her daughter pursue an academic rather than an artistic career is very familiar to me from my own extended family, but is also well-balanced between Grace’s understandable adolescent fury and resentment, and an eventually sympathetic resolution that grants Grace her agency and her mother some, well, grace.
“Respect” is the refrain of Crux’s artist-mentor, and Comer’s novel affords respect to her characters, especially the young protagonists, and to her audience. Looking forward to recommending this to the young people I work with, and I recommend it to you.