I don't know if I am oversensitive or precious, but unless there is something redemptive to keep me reading through it all, I do not enjoy reading about (or watching, for that matter) misery, extreme poverty and abuse. Don't get me wrong, I read a lot of books about India, and sad books that involve a lot of pain and suffering, but I must admit that most of those are written for adults, and it would be harder to write about these topics for a younger audience. I Love the work of Rohinton Mistry and Gregory David Roberts, and Arundati Roy, and they all refuse to turn their own or the reader's face from the misery that they depict. But they are such wonderful writers that the depictions of joy within their worlds are gifts to the reader, and their characterisations so compassionate that we feel we cannot leave the people of that world, and so we stay to learn with them, and eventually be redeemed with them (I do need that promise of hope somewhere, I think).
So why am I writing about all these other books when I am supposed to be talking about The Glass Collector?
Because the contrast is stark between the above group of works and this one. Perera seems to lack the skill to sufficiently draw the reader into this world to make them stay for the journey, and it takes an extraordinary skill to draw us into these places which are unpleasant and stinking and abusive and just sad. I almost think that adolescents are a group that even more dearly need the promise of hope as a shadow beneath their feet as they read a novel such as this one. And there is a promise of hope, on the blurb of the book, but it takes up until the last 50 or so pages of the novel until this hope emerges from the trash and misery to become real.
Whilst we hope for the best for our hero, Aaron, he isn't sufficiently optimistic, unique, inspired, humorous, intelligent or quirky to make us dream with him, and he is downtrodden by the shabbiness of his world into a depression which we can certainly relate to, but never enjoy, like the great writers can encourage us to do.
Interestingly, to go on again about a different book, I've just started my next read, which is tragic and upsetting - The Fault in our Stars, by John Green, and its nothing like this. I already love the character who is to die by the end of the book, and am fully invested in the depressing world of her decline into death from cancer.
Perera gets plenty of brownie points for tackling a challenging subject, and possibly introducing it to our YA readers, but I'm not sure they will stick with it for the whole journey, which is sad.