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A review by karlou
The Home by Sarah Stovell
5.0
The Home opens with the death of a teenage girl but Sarah Stovell ensures her voice is not only heard but her story - which is sadly representative of the experiences of too many children - will linger long after the devastating conclusion has been reached. It is a murder mystery but far more than that, this harrowing novel explores what happens to those whose childhoods are ripped apart by neglect and abuse.
When young people have their trust in adults destroyed, it's not surprising that they should be drawn to one another and so it is for Hope and Annie when they are both placed in the care of Hillfoot House. Its remote location in the Lake District means the girls have little to do other than explore the surrounding area and soon form a passionate but destructive bond. When they are discovered missing on Christmas morning, the police deliver the tragic news that one of the girls has been found dead. As the novel progresses, both Hope and Annie's terrible stories are slowly revealed and it makes for necessarily difficult reading. There is a third girl in Hillfoot House, twelve-year-old Lara whose background has left her so traumatised, she is unable to speak. All three are clearly desperately vulnerable but while Hope and Annie's histories are more fully explored, the largely unexplained nature of what actually led to the tragedy which brought Lara to the home means she often cuts a particularly heartbreaking figure.
This may be fiction but there is a painful truth to The Home because what happens to these girls is the lived experience of real children and young people. Born into chaotic homes where mental illness, poverty and addiction leads to physical, psychological and sexual abuse, Hope and Annie's experiences are never anything less than distressing but there is nothing gratuitous here; the shame and guilt they feel is agonising and highlights why it's so important for people to understand that right now there are children being failed by their parents and by society as a whole. They are not easy young people; they are frequently belligerent, mistrustful and secretive but when they are barely able to cling on to life, they need these protective barriers against a world which has let them down time and again. That one of them ends up dead is perhaps horribly inevitable,
"We were fragile, too. But we weren't fragile like flowers. We were fragile like bombs."
Home to most of us conjures up feelings of warmth and safety but Hope, Annie and Lara have been denied that for most of their short lives. With staff who are demoralised by cuts and low wages, it's not surprising that mistakes are made at Hillfoot House but this is not so much a book about the failings within the care system as a heartending look at the circumstances which mean so many children are reliant on a system which cannot cope. It's hard to feel much sympathy for the adults who have failed these children but with the exception of one particularly loathsome individual, I was able to recognise that they too have been let down time and again and are also victims of a society which is unable or unwilling to help those living in its underbelly.
This dark, deeply affecting book never balks at discussing subjects as raw as youth suicide and the exploitation and prostitution of children, meaning that I can't describe The Home as enjoyable; it made me angry and desperately sad but Sarah Stovell's empathetic, perceptive writing ensured I couldn't tear my eyes from the page. This isn't an uplifting read and it never patronises its readers with false promises of hope but it is an important and realistic portrayal of young lives marked by abuse and violence. Highly recommended.
When young people have their trust in adults destroyed, it's not surprising that they should be drawn to one another and so it is for Hope and Annie when they are both placed in the care of Hillfoot House. Its remote location in the Lake District means the girls have little to do other than explore the surrounding area and soon form a passionate but destructive bond. When they are discovered missing on Christmas morning, the police deliver the tragic news that one of the girls has been found dead. As the novel progresses, both Hope and Annie's terrible stories are slowly revealed and it makes for necessarily difficult reading. There is a third girl in Hillfoot House, twelve-year-old Lara whose background has left her so traumatised, she is unable to speak. All three are clearly desperately vulnerable but while Hope and Annie's histories are more fully explored, the largely unexplained nature of what actually led to the tragedy which brought Lara to the home means she often cuts a particularly heartbreaking figure.
This may be fiction but there is a painful truth to The Home because what happens to these girls is the lived experience of real children and young people. Born into chaotic homes where mental illness, poverty and addiction leads to physical, psychological and sexual abuse, Hope and Annie's experiences are never anything less than distressing but there is nothing gratuitous here; the shame and guilt they feel is agonising and highlights why it's so important for people to understand that right now there are children being failed by their parents and by society as a whole. They are not easy young people; they are frequently belligerent, mistrustful and secretive but when they are barely able to cling on to life, they need these protective barriers against a world which has let them down time and again. That one of them ends up dead is perhaps horribly inevitable,
"We were fragile, too. But we weren't fragile like flowers. We were fragile like bombs."
Home to most of us conjures up feelings of warmth and safety but Hope, Annie and Lara have been denied that for most of their short lives. With staff who are demoralised by cuts and low wages, it's not surprising that mistakes are made at Hillfoot House but this is not so much a book about the failings within the care system as a heartending look at the circumstances which mean so many children are reliant on a system which cannot cope. It's hard to feel much sympathy for the adults who have failed these children but with the exception of one particularly loathsome individual, I was able to recognise that they too have been let down time and again and are also victims of a society which is unable or unwilling to help those living in its underbelly.
This dark, deeply affecting book never balks at discussing subjects as raw as youth suicide and the exploitation and prostitution of children, meaning that I can't describe The Home as enjoyable; it made me angry and desperately sad but Sarah Stovell's empathetic, perceptive writing ensured I couldn't tear my eyes from the page. This isn't an uplifting read and it never patronises its readers with false promises of hope but it is an important and realistic portrayal of young lives marked by abuse and violence. Highly recommended.