A review by heykellyjensen
Damaged by Amy Reed

Kinsey was driving the car when her best friend Camille was killed in a crash. Two months after the accident and school is just about done, senior year almost behind her, but all of the things Kinsey had so rigidly planned -- rooming at the University with Camille then moving with her out to San Francisco after they finished college -- were out the window. She's glad she's no longer the people looked away from when she walked into a room, but she never should have been either. She never really mourned the loss; she never would let loose of the control of her emotions.

When Hunter, Camille's boyfriend, keeps running into Kinsey, she finally stops to listen to him. She'd hoped to avoid him forever and the memories associated with him. Their differences. But she listens, and after a lot of convincing, she agrees to drive with him out to San Francisco and figure things out.

What Kinsey fails to mention to Hunter or to her mother, the only two people sort-of in her life, is that she's being haunted by Camille's ghost, and it's not the Camille she knew before she died.

Reed's novel is part road trip and part ghost story. But it's not just about the ghosts associated with grief. It's about the ghosts of self, about how much control one exerts and lets go of over what happens in life, both the good things and the bad things. Kinsey is a control freak; if she can't suppress her feelings enough, can't make enough plans for how to get from A to B, or can't hold the thoughts back, she counts or finds some way to dodge the issue at hand. That's how she avoided grieving Camille's death.

The thing is, Hunter won't let her continue on this path of control.

But this isn't a book about a boy saving a girl. It's instead a story about Kinsey learning how to take control of her own life by learning how to take chances and let go of some of the things that she shouldn't be worried about controlling. It's okay for her to feel things. It's okay for her to have new experiences. More, it's okay that she's not a shadow in Camille's life, always waiting on the sidelines for her own to begin. This is the story about her learning to get out on the field and live her life for herself. It's through the road trip that Kinsey discovers this sense of adventure and she learns how to let her feelings have the opportunity to BE feelings for her.

In so many ways, Kinsey's personality just spoke to me because I saw many of my bad habits and insecurities in her. A lot of things I've figured out and a lot of things I still find myself being habitual about, even though they're not good habits. Kinsey is very okay being unlikable; that's why she befriended Camille -- she got to be the likable one, and Kinsey was fine not being that way. Kinsey's also afraid of everything and afraid of doing what she wants to do because it's what she wants to do. She's a super tense type A, afraid to let herself have anything. The fear and angst she has about developing relationships, especially friendships, is well-done. She's nervous about Hunter, worried about his actions and behavior and background, and while those things are sometimes seen to be true, she also learns he has a lot more to him than that. Some of the passages about love and accepting people, for their strengths and for their damages, were knock-out powerful.

Some of my favorite things in the story were the smaller things: Kinsey has a job and she and her mother aren't wealthy. She never has a cell phone because she could never afford it (and where in some cases that could be super plot convenient, Hunter has one on the trip, so it's not the case here). There's a frank discussion about virginity, as well as raw discussions of suicide and even rawer moments of grief and anguish.

There's romance here, but it takes a back seat to the bigger story, and the payoff is more than worthwhile.

Reed extends beyond realistic YA fiction here with the supernatural element of Camille's ghost. I think readers could interpret it as being a part of Kinsey's own consciousness/wrestling with grief, too.