annatcs's review against another edition
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
l3m0nad3's review against another edition
4.0
Another YA book- Triggers for DV and assault- very important topics for both YA and adults to read, covers LBGT issues. Must read for all. Teaches tolerance, caring, understanding, empathy, inclusion, etc.
ellieafterall's review against another edition
5.0
book: emotionally destroys me to a point where i can actually feel the character’s grief inside myself
me: 5 Stars!
so i don't know where to begin. i don't know if i ever will be able to fully describe how much this means to me. i connected with brooke so deeply - i feel like she embodies me, in so many ways, but how could that be? she doesn't exist. but i just found myself in her, i guess. i feel like i am stuck between these forces that are my parents - and it's constraining most of the time, and it's a little hard to breathe, but it's why i don't fall apart. i'm not allowed the space to fall apart. and the thing is, brooke is given that space. she keeps teetering at the age, falling over and over, making mistakes, messing everything up.
i think brooke might be one of the most self-destructive characters i have ever read from. but that's what makes her so real, you know? her messes didn't seem calculated by the author, carefully put in different scenes to instigate character growth or whatever. she just kept trying, over and over, to be the person everyone expected her to be. and of course, they kept clashing. and she had to break. and she did. i swear to god, my eyes literally filled to tears every time hers did. because i am as stubborn as her. because i do not allow myself to fall apart completely, like her. because i do not let go, like her.
because letting go is somehow even more terrifying than falling apart. because when you're used to falling apart, you get used to it. you expect the shame, the feelings of failure, and the tears. but you can never expect what happens when you give up control. it's so fucking scary to let things be. and that, i think, is what amber smith explores in here. i think she did it well. i know many people did not like this book - that is okay. i do not like myself very much either. i think if i revealed myself this deeply and in this achingly real way as brooke did, many would not like me either.
i can go on to talk about how much the side characters made sense to me, too. how everyone was struggling with their own issues and couldn't see you struggle. brooke couldn't fall apart, because people were expecting her to be better than that. i felt that so deeply, i can't even tell you...i feel like sometimes i am given so many burdens to shoulder, and i do it, because i love my parents so much, but i could've done without those worries, you know? oh boy this is getting a little too real
anyway! so! um! this is not a book i would recommend to everyone. but brooke gave me a little bit of hope, i think. she alleviated the pressure in my head for a while. i will love her forever. this will be a hard book to reread, but i think i will do it. for brooke, for dani, for callie and maybe even for aaron.
oh. i have to say that other than brooke, my favorite part was the writing - it was a little stream of conscious-y at times (is that a word?) but it made me connect to brooke even more. we are both a little all over the place. so i'm going to type out my favorite quotes now, because i loved them that much. as for the rest of the pages i marked, i will put post-its when i buy my own copy to hold to my heart.
so here they are:
I pull the pillow over my face and hold it there, hearing my own pulse thumping in my ears. I try to think about something else. Anything else. I think about this time next week, this time next month, this time next year, five years, ten years from now, measuring out the distance to a time when things will be normal, when things will make sense, when things will be right again.
I try not to think about it, though. There's no point, anyway. Because how would I have time for that with everything else that's always going on? How could I ever find the space for another person in my life when I barely even have enough room for myself?
"I was just thinking..." He trails off, shaking his head. "I don't know, how much more am I expected to give? How much more am I expected to take?" he asks, like there are answers to these questions.
I think my heart actually stops beating. I swear, I die. A temporary little death. Because that's when the whole picture shifts into focus, the puzzle pieces fitting together, yet the picture they form making no sense at all.
Another hour has passed. I don't understand how time keeps doing that. Moving forward when all I need is for it to stop, to give me a chance to work back through all that's happened today, which is impossible to do when the seconds keep marching ahead, piling new minutes on top of all the old minutes, building a landfill of lost time.
I want to follow her, tell her not to leave. I want to know what she knows. But I can't do any of those things. I can barely feel my hands and feet. The world seems to tilt on its axis just a little too much. I have to sit. Because my thoughts are racing in a million different directions and I'm sure my brain is short-circuiting one region at a time, neuron by neuron.
I think about the now again, because this is a place composed solely of nows. In this moment - in this now, I have no past, I have no future. And I don't know why, but somehow this is one of the most comforting thoughts I've ever had.
"Being with you is like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I've been living my whole life in this right-handed world, where everything felt slightly off, everything a little too difficult, out of sync in this way I could never really explain or understand."
"Okay," she says.
"And now-when I'm with you, I mean-everything feels right, easier. Like I've been looking to the next thing, waiting to finally get to that place where I'm supposed to be, but when I'm with you, I feel like I'm already there. I've never had that before."
"You know those tightrope walkers you see, like at the circus or something?" I ask. "It's like you've been walking along on this tightrope your whole life. And you always thought you were doing it all on your own. Keeping your balance, putting one foot in front of the other. You look down sometimes, and see the ground, but you never really worried about it. One minute you're walking along, same as always, and then the next it's like suddenly you can't find your footing and you realize that you weren't doing it all alone like you thought. Something was keeping you up - someone."
"Keep going," she whispers.
"But pretty soon you swing your weight an inch in the wrong direction, only to realize there's nothing there anymore. You see yourself teetering from side to side, but there's nothing you can do. And then, finally, you just fall. And it's like you keep falling and falling through the air and there's nothing to hold on to, and all you want is to hit the ground so you know where you are again, but you don't - you can't." There's this pang in my chest, interrupting the dull, steady ache that always seems to be there, making the words get caught in my throat. I swallow hard. "It's sort of like that, I guess."
"Brooke? You can hold on to me."
So I do. I hold on, tighter and tighter.
It means me telling her to leave me alone when I meant to say I love you, when what I really meant was "Don't leave me alone like everyone else - I have this hole inside of me that's getting so big I think it might swallow me up."
"Go on."
I do. I don't know why, but I do.
On the walk home, I think about how the spring suits Callie. It makes her brighter, like something inside of her is in bloom, something coming back to life. And maybe we're all like a season in that way. If we are, then Aaron would be the fall - all fiery and fickle, complicated and beautiful in his own way, in this way that lets him forgive him for doing whatever he needs to do to keep going. And me, maybe I'm most like the winter. Maybe I need that stillness, as much as I've tried to fight it. I need it like oxygen, that quieting of the world around me, so I can finally listen to myself.
Mom and Dad, I think they're both like summer. And maybe that was the problem. They were too similar; they needed the same things from each other. I have to think that their love was like the sun, warm at first, comforting, peaceful. Perhaps they thought they could bask in each other forever, but they burned too hot, too fast, too bright, until all they had was a fire that raged out of control, uncontained and wild - dangerous. And maybe I have a little of that heat inside of me, too. But I have enough of their good parts in me, I think, to balance out.
I think about how I've finally learned something here after all. About what love is and what love isn't. It's not so monstrous, not so dangerous and unknowable-not something to fear. And it's not as simple as just finding someone else to hold on to; it's not letting that other person crawl into those hollow spaces inside of you. I think love also means you have to stand on your own for a while, stand with yourself and for yourself, before you can ask someone to stand there next to you. I think maybe that's the trickiest part, and that's where our parents got it wrong.
me: 5 Stars!
so i don't know where to begin. i don't know if i ever will be able to fully describe how much this means to me. i connected with brooke so deeply - i feel like she embodies me, in so many ways, but how could that be? she doesn't exist. but i just found myself in her, i guess. i feel like i am stuck between these forces that are my parents - and it's constraining most of the time, and it's a little hard to breathe, but it's why i don't fall apart. i'm not allowed the space to fall apart. and the thing is, brooke is given that space. she keeps teetering at the age, falling over and over, making mistakes, messing everything up.
i think brooke might be one of the most self-destructive characters i have ever read from. but that's what makes her so real, you know? her messes didn't seem calculated by the author, carefully put in different scenes to instigate character growth or whatever. she just kept trying, over and over, to be the person everyone expected her to be. and of course, they kept clashing. and she had to break. and she did. i swear to god, my eyes literally filled to tears every time hers did. because i am as stubborn as her. because i do not allow myself to fall apart completely, like her. because i do not let go, like her.
because letting go is somehow even more terrifying than falling apart. because when you're used to falling apart, you get used to it. you expect the shame, the feelings of failure, and the tears. but you can never expect what happens when you give up control. it's so fucking scary to let things be. and that, i think, is what amber smith explores in here. i think she did it well. i know many people did not like this book - that is okay. i do not like myself very much either. i think if i revealed myself this deeply and in this achingly real way as brooke did, many would not like me either.
i can go on to talk about how much the side characters made sense to me, too. how everyone was struggling with their own issues and couldn't see you struggle. brooke couldn't fall apart, because people were expecting her to be better than that. i felt that so deeply, i can't even tell you...i feel like sometimes i am given so many burdens to shoulder, and i do it, because i love my parents so much, but i could've done without those worries, you know? oh boy this is getting a little too real
anyway! so! um! this is not a book i would recommend to everyone. but brooke gave me a little bit of hope, i think. she alleviated the pressure in my head for a while. i will love her forever. this will be a hard book to reread, but i think i will do it. for brooke, for dani, for callie and maybe even for aaron.
oh. i have to say that other than brooke, my favorite part was the writing - it was a little stream of conscious-y at times (is that a word?) but it made me connect to brooke even more. we are both a little all over the place. so i'm going to type out my favorite quotes now, because i loved them that much. as for the rest of the pages i marked, i will put post-its when i buy my own copy to hold to my heart.
so here they are:
I pull the pillow over my face and hold it there, hearing my own pulse thumping in my ears. I try to think about something else. Anything else. I think about this time next week, this time next month, this time next year, five years, ten years from now, measuring out the distance to a time when things will be normal, when things will make sense, when things will be right again.
I try not to think about it, though. There's no point, anyway. Because how would I have time for that with everything else that's always going on? How could I ever find the space for another person in my life when I barely even have enough room for myself?
"I was just thinking..." He trails off, shaking his head. "I don't know, how much more am I expected to give? How much more am I expected to take?" he asks, like there are answers to these questions.
I think my heart actually stops beating. I swear, I die. A temporary little death. Because that's when the whole picture shifts into focus, the puzzle pieces fitting together, yet the picture they form making no sense at all.
Another hour has passed. I don't understand how time keeps doing that. Moving forward when all I need is for it to stop, to give me a chance to work back through all that's happened today, which is impossible to do when the seconds keep marching ahead, piling new minutes on top of all the old minutes, building a landfill of lost time.
I want to follow her, tell her not to leave. I want to know what she knows. But I can't do any of those things. I can barely feel my hands and feet. The world seems to tilt on its axis just a little too much. I have to sit. Because my thoughts are racing in a million different directions and I'm sure my brain is short-circuiting one region at a time, neuron by neuron.
I think about the now again, because this is a place composed solely of nows. In this moment - in this now, I have no past, I have no future. And I don't know why, but somehow this is one of the most comforting thoughts I've ever had.
"Being with you is like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I've been living my whole life in this right-handed world, where everything felt slightly off, everything a little too difficult, out of sync in this way I could never really explain or understand."
"Okay," she says.
"And now-when I'm with you, I mean-everything feels right, easier. Like I've been looking to the next thing, waiting to finally get to that place where I'm supposed to be, but when I'm with you, I feel like I'm already there. I've never had that before."
"You know those tightrope walkers you see, like at the circus or something?" I ask. "It's like you've been walking along on this tightrope your whole life. And you always thought you were doing it all on your own. Keeping your balance, putting one foot in front of the other. You look down sometimes, and see the ground, but you never really worried about it. One minute you're walking along, same as always, and then the next it's like suddenly you can't find your footing and you realize that you weren't doing it all alone like you thought. Something was keeping you up - someone."
"Keep going," she whispers.
"But pretty soon you swing your weight an inch in the wrong direction, only to realize there's nothing there anymore. You see yourself teetering from side to side, but there's nothing you can do. And then, finally, you just fall. And it's like you keep falling and falling through the air and there's nothing to hold on to, and all you want is to hit the ground so you know where you are again, but you don't - you can't." There's this pang in my chest, interrupting the dull, steady ache that always seems to be there, making the words get caught in my throat. I swallow hard. "It's sort of like that, I guess."
"Brooke? You can hold on to me."
So I do. I hold on, tighter and tighter.
It means me telling her to leave me alone when I meant to say I love you, when what I really meant was "Don't leave me alone like everyone else - I have this hole inside of me that's getting so big I think it might swallow me up."
"Go on."
I do. I don't know why, but I do.
On the walk home, I think about how the spring suits Callie. It makes her brighter, like something inside of her is in bloom, something coming back to life. And maybe we're all like a season in that way. If we are, then Aaron would be the fall - all fiery and fickle, complicated and beautiful in his own way, in this way that lets him forgive him for doing whatever he needs to do to keep going. And me, maybe I'm most like the winter. Maybe I need that stillness, as much as I've tried to fight it. I need it like oxygen, that quieting of the world around me, so I can finally listen to myself.
Mom and Dad, I think they're both like summer. And maybe that was the problem. They were too similar; they needed the same things from each other. I have to think that their love was like the sun, warm at first, comforting, peaceful. Perhaps they thought they could bask in each other forever, but they burned too hot, too fast, too bright, until all they had was a fire that raged out of control, uncontained and wild - dangerous. And maybe I have a little of that heat inside of me, too. But I have enough of their good parts in me, I think, to balance out.
I think about how I've finally learned something here after all. About what love is and what love isn't. It's not so monstrous, not so dangerous and unknowable-not something to fear. And it's not as simple as just finding someone else to hold on to; it's not letting that other person crawl into those hollow spaces inside of you. I think love also means you have to stand on your own for a while, stand with yourself and for yourself, before you can ask someone to stand there next to you. I think maybe that's the trickiest part, and that's where our parents got it wrong.
tonyalalala's review against another edition
4.0
This was almost a 5 star read for me. The only issue I really had with it was how Brooke seemed to blame her mother for the abuse as much as she blamed her father. Abuse is never the victims fault. Whatever reasons Brooke’s mom had for staying, her father was still a piece of shit who beat on her and her brother. I also didn’t appreciate how they tried to victimize her father after his death. There’s a scene that reveals the abuse started while the parents were still in high school yet readers are expected to believe there was once a happy time, they were a happy family, and the abuse just started one day out of nowhere. Maybe I’m wrong, but that’s how I understood it.
skyblue305's review against another edition
5.0
Gut-wrenching, emotionally resonant, and deeply moving, Amber Smith doesn't disappoint with this beautifully-written, sophomore novel. Smith has a way with drawing you into her story world, with memorable characters that simply come to life on the pages. A truly, unforgettable must-read book, from one of the finest contemporary YA authors out there. Be prepared to break out the tissues - you'll need the entire box for this one.
kba76's review against another edition
4.0
The Way I Used To Be was a book recommended to me that I read in equal parts horror and amazement. The Last To Let Go takes a similarly tough topic - though less talked about - and is equally challenging to read.
The explosive first chapter introduces us to our main character, Brooke, returning home to find police swarming her neighbourhood. Her mother has stabbed her father, with her little sister the only witness.
Suddenly everything Brooke thought she knew has been turned upside down. Nobody wants to acknowledge the hidden abusive side to her father, and the impact his behaviour had on the rest of the family. Her mother is in prison, and the three children are all struggling to live with what has happened.
What I found intriguing about this was Smith’s focus on Brooke and her life after this event. We see her coming to terms with her sexuality, developing her relationship with her siblings and taking tentative steps to develop her sense of identity.
The explosive first chapter introduces us to our main character, Brooke, returning home to find police swarming her neighbourhood. Her mother has stabbed her father, with her little sister the only witness.
Suddenly everything Brooke thought she knew has been turned upside down. Nobody wants to acknowledge the hidden abusive side to her father, and the impact his behaviour had on the rest of the family. Her mother is in prison, and the three children are all struggling to live with what has happened.
What I found intriguing about this was Smith’s focus on Brooke and her life after this event. We see her coming to terms with her sexuality, developing her relationship with her siblings and taking tentative steps to develop her sense of identity.
deedersification's review against another edition
4.0
This one was a page turner for me. I didn’t love the ending but it was still a good read.
brandinh's review against another edition
4.0
As you can expect with Smith’s work, this is a heavy read. Yet this is an important work that illustrates the realities of domestic violence. Smith’s decision to have Brooke’s abusive father be a member of the police force adds an extra layer to this complicated story. Recommended.
paulinekmb's review against another edition
emotional
inspiring
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death and Domestic abuse
Moderate: Homophobia and Suicide
saracorise's review against another edition
4.0
More like 3.5-3.75.
I enjoyed this book, but I think it could have been done better. Things were missing and I think the end wrapped up a little too nicely. But, I also really enjoyed the character development, I liked the growth of the main character. I liked how not every character was perfect.
I have more thoughts... maybe later. But I liked this one.
I enjoyed this book, but I think it could have been done better. Things were missing and I think the end wrapped up a little too nicely. But, I also really enjoyed the character development, I liked the growth of the main character. I liked how not every character was perfect.
I have more thoughts... maybe later. But I liked this one.