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Recovery Road by Blake Nelson

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When we meet Maddie, she’s just in the beginning of her time at the transitional halfway house located at the treatment facility she’s been sent to. Maddie is was a party girl, into drinking and drugs and hard. She made it through the detox portion of her stay and now, she’s got the opportunity to try navigating life in “the real world.” Of course, her activities are highly monitored and she’s got a set of rules she needs to follow strictly, but this is her chance to begin rebuilding her life. She’s also seeing her counselor, who tells her she needs to work hard at starting something new. This is perhaps her only opportunity to begin completely fresh.

It’s here in this transitional home she meets Trish. Trish is the first girl Maddie feels any sort of connection with. The two of them go together to the weekly movie in town, and they form a good bond. But Trish has been in the half way house longer, which means she’s sent home before Maddie — weeks before her, even — which means that Maddie is once again on her own.

Enter Stewart.

Immediately, Stew and Maddie hit it off. Even though opposite sex relations are forbidden here in Spring Meadows, the two of them elect to pursue a relationship anyway. They have a chemistry and a real connection. It’s cut short, though, when Maddie is able to leave the facility and Stewart still has time to spend. But when Maddie leaves, he gives her his grandmother’s ring as a promise to her that they will be together again, and that they can make it through this recovery together.

Recovery Road really begins here: now that Maddie has left Spring Meadows, she’s able to reconnect again with Trish. She’s also thrust back into school and with school comes the people she hung out with in her pre-rehab life. Maddie has to work hard to avoid these people seek out new friends. She’s lucky, though — she stumbles upon a friend in the library who ends up being key to her figuring herself out. I won’t linger on this much because it’s a smaller piece in the bigger puzzle of the story. Needless to say, her transition back to school isn’t as painful as she suspected, and in fact, she’s found a fondness for academics. She actually wants to do well in class and raises her grade point average quite well. Maddie may even have college dreams, something she’d never have imagined for herself just months earlier when her biggest concern was her next hit.

When Stew leaves the facility, it’s not too long before he and Maddie can reconnect, and it is here that the story really blossoms. Their relationship is painfully real and it’s not always easy. I loved how Nelson built the relationship in this story, as it’s one that begins almost out of convenience and desperation — he and she are around the same age, both struggling with similar issues and they find solace in one another. But when Stew slips Maddie the ring, the relationship changes completely: it’s now one about making a promise to one another to get stronger. Here is the kicker, though. The promise ends up really being one Maddie gives to herself as the people she’s come to rely on as friends, Stew and Trish, will not have quite the journey she has post-rehab.

Throughout the story, Maddie has a lot of unique opportunities — she’s a role model for people, whether she believes herself to be one or not. And this is a chapter in her life that will come to a head, as well, and it will make her realize what a strong, resilient character she is. She also has the chance to change the lives of those closest to her. It’s hard not to spoil this, but I won’t. What I can say is that the way Nelson weaves in Maddie’s growth as a person is directly on the backs of Trish and Stew. And that’s not meant in a bad way; rather, her path is an entirely different one than either of theirs, and the decisions that they make on their own directly impact Maddie’s life. These things strengthen her as a character and make us as readers absolutely pull for her.

Recovery Road is not an easy book to read, given the topic it delves into and the harsh realities that these teens face on a daily basis. But I wouldn’t expect less from Nelson, and he handles these smoothly and realistically. For me, the setting is spot on, and the style is right for the book itself. It’s well executed in the use of multiple parts for the story telling, giving us insight into the different chapters of Maddie’s recovery. This story is right up there with Paranoid Park for me: it’s gritty, raw, and completely heartfelt. I loved being witness to Maddie, even though I should have had more reservations about her from the start. I also loved that everything I thought about other characters in the book shifted entirely because of my belief in Maddie.

This was yet another book I read in one sitting — something I’ve mentioned is a rare occurrence. But this book is so compelling and begs to be read as a whole. It is entirely fresh and contained a skillful balance of the grit with the realities of relationships. Maddie’s voice is approachable always, despite the fact it could be off putting. Recovery Road will, without doubt, be a story that sticks with me for a long time to come and it further proves to me that Nelson is a dependable, but extremely versatile, writer.

Hand this book off to Nelson’s established fan base, as well as those who like their stories gritty and real. I think fans of Ellen Hopkins or Amy Reed will find much to enjoy here, though stylistically they are much different. Those who enjoy Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak or Wintergirls will also find a lot here. And perhaps the real audience for this is your non-readers. The people too cool to read a book — you know exactly who those kids are. This is the kind of book that will smack them in the face and make them realize there is stuff out there speaking to their interests and their lives. The language and discussion of drug use, partying, and an attempted rape scene are issues readers should be prepared for, so do not hand this to your younger readers. Without doubt, this story will appeal to both males and females because of the subject.

Miles from Ordinary by Carol Lynch Williams

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There’s something I’ve come to really appreciate about Carol Lynch Williams, and it’s this: she can write the emerging teen (that is, the 12-14 year old) like nobody’s business. It is extremely tough to write this tricky age because it can either read too young or too old, and the problem is readers at this age are so different, and their levels of experience and knowledge so diverse. Some are ready to read about tough issues because they’ve been there. Others haven’t had quite the life experiences and therefore aren’t always ready to make the leap from middle grade fiction to young adult. But fortunately, those who are really have something spectacular to discover in Williams’s work. Miles From Ordinary is another winner.

Lacey’s excited to begin her new job at the local public library. She’s finally old enough to have real responsibilities, and even though this job is really a volunteer gig with no pay, she needs it. She needs time away from her home and her mother to figure herself out. See, mom’s not stable. Mom is a very mentally ill woman who requires constant care and attention from Lacey. Mom’s pushed away help from her own sister already, and dad left the family long ago.

Maybe more exciting for Lacey than her post at the library is her mom’s job — Lacey convinced mom she, too, needs to get out of the house and make something of herself. Although mom protests, the fear and social anxiety eating away at her, she decides she’ll try it, and she gets a job at the grocery store. Together, Lacey and her mother take the bus to their respective new jobs on this day, and both set themselves on the path of making their lives better.

Unfortunately, things don’t go as smoothly as Lacey hopes they will when she leaves work. When she makes it to mom’s new place of employment, mom is not there. In fact, she finds out mom quit the job just minutes after getting there, and now Lacey crosses her fingers that mom will be at home, in bed, and no where else. But when Lacey gets home, things aren’t what she hoped, and mom may have finally hit rock bottom.

This rapid pace book packs a punch with it — as readers, we’re right there along with every move Lacey makes. We care a lot about her and we feel awful for her because she’s been responsible for keeping an eye on her mother. She doesn’t get a chance to live for herself, and we know how excited she is to finally have something to do with her time. She’s eager to throw herself into her volunteer gig at the library where her aunt once ran the children’s department. We want her to succeed and have a killer day and positive start to this new chapter in her life.

And the thing of it all is, we don’t wish ill on her mother. Even though mom is made out to be a bit of a demon — not because she mistreats Lacey but because she’s so needy and dependent upon her in her day-to-day operation — we actually care a lot about her, too. She’s got a chance to make a positive change in her life, and we see her outlet to independence. It’d be easy to develop anger to mom, but we can’t; in fact, despite the fact she ruins Lacey’s day, we still care about her mom’s well being. We want her to be at home in bed, her depression taking over her. We don’t want her hurt.

The entire story takes place in one day, but there is so much packed into the story. We get the history of Lacey’s life, and we know she deserves so much better than she has. We get glimpses into her mother’s life story, too, without being bogged down in it. We’re getting it from Lacey’s perspective, which is, of course, skewed and needs to be. It’s pretty masterful story telling to do so much with so little — because in addition to taking place in one day, this book clocks in at under 200 pages — and there is nothing missing here. When I finished the story, I felt like it came to the right conclusion and that it didn’t need additional juice elsewhere.

Key to understanding why this book is so powerful is thinking about Lacey being 14. All we want is success for her, and we don’t necessarily mean success in a financial manner. We want Lacey to have success in understanding what it is to be her own person, independent from her mother. She deserves a chance to do what she wants to do and escape the ghosts which haunt her mom. She’s stronger than they are, and she knows this. But she’s still weighed down because of family decisions which left her in her mother’s care; however, Lacey is smart enough to know when she finally needs to seek help. When she’s taken too much of the weight on herself and when she needs to be herself. It’s a pretty powerful moment in the story. While some readers might believe the things Lacey realizes or thinks to herself read older than 14, I would heartily disagree — anyone who has lived through something like this knows what sometimes, young people are forced to grow up well before they’re meant to. Lacey is one such teen, and we can’t help but completely believe her. We also can’t help but breathe an incredible sigh of relief at the decisions she makes and the head she’s got on her shoulders. Lacey is a hell of a memorable character, much like Hope is in Glimpse and Kyra is in The Chosen One.

I also love that it’s Lacey coming to Lacey’s own understanding. There is not another person telling her what to do or think, and there is not a boy mixed up in her coming into herself. I bring it up since it’s a bone I’ve had to pick with a number of books lately. But oh, not here! Lacey is a pretty dynamite female character all her own.

This book will have appeal to young and older teen readers and is an excellent read alike to Holly Schindler’s A Blue So Dark (reviewed here). Hand this to readers who are ready for a mature and insightful voice, as well as those who may be struggling to find a story with which to connect. I really think there’s an understated power in Williams’s books to hook more reluctant readers, especially since her characters are younger.

Like Mandarin by Kirsten Hubbard

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At 15, Grace has more wisdom and insight than I can admit to having at 26. To say Like Mandarin completely blew me away would be an understatement.

Grace is bored in her podunk town of Washokey, Wyoming. Nothing happens here, and she’s got no real way out until college, which feels like light years away. She doesn’t want to end up like everyone else, stuck here for eternity — or worse, end up like her mother who had a taste of freedom when she spent time in Jackson Hole, a town where something happens. Too bad mom threw it all away to come back here, to Washokey, where the only thing she cares about is her sister Taffeta’s pageant career. Since Grace threw her potential pageant career out the window years ago, well, mom doesn’t really care about her.

There is something in Washokey that drives Grace, and that is Mandarin. She’s 17 and the town slut, but she’s everything Grace wants to be: worldly, experienced, edgy, different. Sexy. If Grace could have any of those qualities, she’d be so much happier. If she could even get close to Mandarin, she knows her life would improve by leaps and bounds. Lucky for Grace, a school project leads her to end up in Mandarin’s orbit.

As their school relationship develops into something more serious — friendship, as Mandarin put it (and this acknowledgment is important) — Grace quickly begins to understand that the person she thinks has it all actually might not have anything. That everything she does and everything that feels so loose and free about her might be a cry for help. Mandarin is far from perfect. Grace can’t resist what comes with being associated with her, though, and she continues to spend time with her and seek her out. And when Mandarin suggests she and Grace run away and leave Washokey together to make waves in bigger places, Grace is at first excited. And just to ensure that Grace is on board with this trip, Mandarin will prove to her protege how truly horrible the people in this town are.

Like Mandarin is a little bit Courtney Summers with a little bit Siobhan Vivian with a little bit C. K. Kelly Martin with a little bit of Carol Lynch Williams. That is to say, this is an edgy story about a girl coming to terms with who she is and how the people she interacts with really impact her perception of self. It’s emotionally gripping, and it is completely honest in its portrayal of relationships. It is what every contemporary book should be, and it is one that will not last long on shelves. This book should be given to every teen girl when she enters high school — it is what they experience every day and not just in high school but even after. Hubbard’s book is a girl’s bible.

Grace feels lost. She’s lonely, feels like a bit of an outsider and a castaway in high school. She feels divorced from her own family, where her mother spends more time paying attention to her little sister than her. Grace wasn’t wanted, anyway; she was an accident, the reason her mom’s desire to escape was dashed. But Mandarin — she’s everything Grace longs to be. She’s beautiful. She’s sought after. She’s got a future ahead of her. She’s fearless. The longing Grace expresses is so raw; she believes just by being around Mandarin, her life will be better. That energy, that vibe, it’ll rub off on her, too. Grace goes as far as to imitate Mandarin, slinging her jeans low over her hips, wearing tighter, more revealing clothing, mimicking her trademark walk.

Every girl has felt this. Every girl has felt lost and driftless and believed that what someone else has is what they need. It’ll make them better and stronger. They idolize another girl, put her on a pedestal then hope to reach that, hope to even just touch that. Reading and experiencing this with Grace was tough. I’ve been there. I’ve done that. Sometimes, I still do it and still believe that. How I wanted to redirect Grace here. But I certainly can’t tell her the truths she knows already. She’s got them figured out. I’m not sure I do.

Mandarin isn’t all she’s cracked up to be. She’s a huge liar, but not so much to other people as she is to herself. She tells people things about her family that aren’t true, sure, but the fact is she tells them because they’re the things she’s convinced herself to believe. And the rumors about her being a slut aren’t rumors: she really is. She doesn’t lie to herself about the fact she sleeps around. What she lies to herself about is how this makes her feel. She says it makes her feel powerful, makes her feel like she has something she can hold about the head of other people.

This is a story about power. Mandarin knows she’s admired by Grace, knows that she can turn Grace into whatever she wants to. She knows — at least thinks she knows — Grace’s weak point. She’s going to get her there. Make her bend to her will. THIS is what fuels Mandarin, this power. When we get to the crux of the story though, the moment when Mandarin tries to prove to Grace how messed up the people in Washokey are and that she has no other choice but to leave with her, Grace realizes that Mandarin is doing nothing but lying to herself. Filling herself with meaning when there’s really nothing there. Sleeping with men and convincing herself it’s meaningful even though she knows it’s actually the opposite. And it’s here that I needed to back away because what Grace says to Mandarin is so much smarter and more insightful than anything I’ve ever thought. This is the moment when Grace comes into herself. When she realizes she’s one heck of a person herself.

One of the things I loved about this story was that there wasn’t a traditional romance here. There’s no boy vying for the attention of either of these girls. Hubbard keeps her focus on these girls and that’s all. That’s not to say, though, that what Grace feels toward Mandarin isn’t a crush — she has a complete crush on her. It’s a girl crush. It’s the kind of thing all girls experience, whether they’re willing to vocalize it or not. She’s not a lesbian, and she’s not interested in a romantic relationship with Mandarin. She’s simply infatuated with her. And Mandarin will, of course, tease the hell out of her. Maybe it’s sincere; we’ll never know because we don’t really get to know Mandarin’s internal thoughts. But knowing Mandarin, seeing her actions, understanding how completely unhinged she is, I think she was simply trying to get more of a rise out of Grace. She wanted to mess with her, break her completely.

The relationships feel authentic and are true and real to girls. Hubbard never tries to push the envelope here, never tries to make it anything it’s not. That’s why I appreciated it so much. There’s something honest in a mean girl story, but blatant meanness isn’t the only kind of relationship that happens among girls. Sometimes it’s subtle, even if it’s about power.

If you’ll remember, too, I talked a lot about the idea of place when I reviewed Julia Wertz’s Drinking at the Movies here. I love what Hubbard does in talking about these very issues in her novel. We know how who we are is linked to where we are, and both Grace and Mandarin really expand upon this. They live this and breathe this and believe everything about themselves to be tied to Washokey, though they go about it in different ways. But like Wertz’s character, Grace figures out that it’s only part of her whole. Mandarin, on the other hand, is letting this thing — this place — be her excuse for not confronting her real problems.

In addition to being a fantastic story about power and longing and growth, the writing in Like Mandarin is strong. Hubbard weaves together images that just work well and never feel cliche. As a reader, you feel the aura Grace places around Mandarin. Despite her longing to leave Washokey, you actually see how beautiful it is too — anyone who has spent any time in Wyoming knows the beauty of the open sky and the vast prairies dotted among the mountains. There isn’t a wasted word in this story, nor is the writing sacrificed for the sake of the story. This is a well paced book: it clips along but it does beg the reader to slow down at times and soak in the language.

This book will appeal to teens without question, and I also think this book will have great appeal to 20-somethings. Everything here is still as relevant and as relatable to them as it is to teenagers. I’ll be honest: this book doesn’t hold a whole lot for male readers, and you know what? It doesn’t have to. In fact, I suspect that what Hubbard might open the door for here is an opportunity for someone to shed light into this sort of relationship from the male perspective. This is a book that will speak to girls on a number of levels and it’s an important one. Grace is really something. I think she’ll be something to a lot of girls.

This is a debut author, but I suspect we have a lot to look forward to. I cannot wait for more. If you didn’t get the chance, check out the trailer we debuted right here. I think it captures the book perfectly!

Sean Griswold’s Head by Lindsey Leavitt

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When Payton begins seeing her school counselor, she’s reluctant. Why would she need to get help? Her father’s the one who has been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and he and her mother have been keeping it a secret from her. How dare they! Payton’s only reacting how anyone who has had such a secret kept from them would: she’s not talking to them. Not acknowledging it.

Yet, there’s something in her counselor’s suggestion to keep a focus journal that appeals to Payton. She’s a bit of an obsessive organizer and perfectionist, so maybe focusing attention on one object not related to her at all might help. So she chooses the thing that’s always been in front of her but to which she’s never paid attention: the back of Sean Griswold’s head.

Of course, this wouldn’t be a story about Payton’s working through her problems via the back of some guy’s head if there wasn’t a little crushing involved. It seems natural when you spend hours every week thinking about this random guy’s head you’d begin doing a little more investigating. Then you’d be following them. And maybe you’d be really liking him. Oh, Payton.

Sean Griswold’s Head is the kind of story we need once in a while: Payton’s dealing with a very challenging life event, but it’s not really her event. Rather, it’s her father, and the fact of the matter is, he and her mother have tried to shield Payton from it. As readers, we side with Payton on the issue, knowing that not being honest about this is wrong. It impacts her more than if they’d been honest about the situation. But the truth of the matter is this isn’t really Payton’s issue. It affects her, certainly, but the reason mom and dad keep it from her is because this particular aspect of the story isn’t hers, and it shouldn’t be. What Leavitt’s done is set the ground for the story about Payton to play out — the one about her navigating a family challenge while also coming to terms with who she is as a person, and what she wants in her own life. A lot of stories that tackle teens and ill/unstable parents focus too much on the parents and not enough on the teen, but this one gets it right. The set up is very smart and smooth.

The issues are dealt with in a realistic, 15-year-old manner. Payton’s got a great head on her shoulders, and she has a sense of humor that carries readers through the ups and downs of her father’s illness and her working through her focus journal. We’re right there as she experiences some pretty horrific-to-see events happen to her father (though note that these are done exceedingly well and in a manner that’s not scary to readers) and while she does the funny stuff that teen girls do when they want to get to know a guy better (she stalks him but in a not-creepy kinda way). We’re laughing right along with Payton but we know that despite her strong attitude on the outside and her ability to make light of so many situations, she’s got deeper feelings going on inside and she’s working hard toward acknowledging them and figuring out how to work with them.

In addition to dealing with her father and Sean, Payton’s also worried a bit about her friendship with Jac. At the beginning, they’re as close as possible, but when things in Payton’s life begin to change with her father and she tells Jac about her focus project, things become a little unwieldy in their friendship. I thought Leavitt did a great job highlighting how friendships ebb and flow, particularly in high school. Although Payton and Jac bicker, they come back together as they should. The addition of a boy in the story is simply a small thing they surmount together, and he does not ultimately change their friendship nor does he change who Payton is as a character. This is exceedingly important, I think, in a world of books where boys too often change the core of who the female character is.

Some of the other things I liked about this book were the smooth pace, and both the story and character arcs are realistic. The prose isn’t chunky or clunky, and the writing itself is pretty good. Payton has a great voice in the story, and she’s self-aware without being self-aware — which she has to be to understand the value that a focus journal has in helping her work through the tough stuff in her life. The book’s also clean, meaning you could easily hand this to a middle school reader and not worry about language, drugs/alcohol, or sex. Some of the stuff with her father might be a little over the heads of some readers that young, but for those who have had family members dealing with physical challenges like this, it will all make perfect sense. Likewise, I thought the way the romance played out with Sean was sweet in a first-boyfriend kind of way. It ties together with what her father’s going through in the end, and I quite liked that. I’m purposely being vague because how these things come together is smart and yet, it doesn’t change the core of who Payton is.

While I liked this book, I didn’t get enough resolution with Payton’s father and I’m not certain I buy that Payton herself has completely come to terms with what this all means for her as a character. I’d have liked a little more of how this plays out. I’m afraid this might make the book a little forgettable for me personally as a reader. I know it will stick with other readers far longer, but for me, there wasn’t quite enough to hold on to. This is, however, the kind of book I think will make an excellent book talk title because it will certainly resonate with readers who have experienced similar situations.

Pass this one along to fans of realistic, clean fiction and though I don’t usually limit my readership by gender, I think this book will have stronger appeal for females than males, given the role Payton’s relationship with Sean has in the story. I’d give this to fans of Sarah Dessen, Siobhan Vivian, or Jenny Han pretty easily. It reminded me a bit of Han’s Shug and so your younger readers of that kind of fiction will certainly like Sean Griswold’s Head.

Leverage by Joshua Cohen

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When a book gives me a visceral reaction, I’m always a little surprised. Sure, there’s been more than one or two books that have made me tear up for one reason or another, but it’s rare to both cry and feel utterly sick to my stomach. I think I can count the number of those books on one hand.

And now I add Joshua Cohen’s debut Leverage to that elite group of books. This is one you need — need — to pick up and read.

Danny is a gymnast: he’s small, nimble, and he’s impressive as hell at what he does. He knows how the locker room works, too; steer clear of the football players, the track players, and go only to where his teammates have their space and everything will work out fine.

Kurt is the new guy in town. He’s been moved around more times than he can count, but now in the new school, he’s ready to just settle. He’s a football player and can probably best be described as a tank. He’s huge and he incites fear where he goes because of it. But Kurt’s a bit of a wimpy guy. At least, in comparison to his football teammates. Those guys define fear and power; Kurt is more laid back, less willing to jump into their coach’s offer of enhancing supplements.

I don’t want to explain too much more of the plot, but I’ll say this much — this is a mean guys story. This is the story of what happens in the locker room when smack talk goes beyond talk and turns into an all-out physical display of power. The things that the leaders of the football team do to other boys is unimaginable and leads to consequences far greater than one can imagine. We’re not talking about a little hit or slap in this book; we’re talking lives. And their reactions are probably what made this book so difficult to get through without a few tissues.

As far as Danny and Kurt are concerned, the two of them play a key role together. They’re allies, despite not necessarily knowing that or acknowledging it after everything plays out. Both are fully fleshed characters, and Cohen gives them distinct personalities and voices. In fact, they’re so distinct, I noticed when there was an error in the ARC where one chapter heading was swapped with another (that is, one of them was labeled Danny when it was really Kurt and vice versa). Both characters are sympathetic, and their growth is well developed. As readers, we get to know the bulk of Danny’s story upfront; we know what he’s all about and what his motivation and drive is. Kurt, on the other hand, we don’t. Since he’s the new guy, we learn very little about him except that he’s got some real stories to tell. There’s something about him that aches, and we want to know what it is because it will play a huge role in how he reacts to his teammates and their actions. The way these details come together is smart, and it gives the same insight into Kurt’s character that Danny has. This technique lets us play along with Danny and dares us to draw conclusions alongside him. We have to learn to trust that his actions will be self-guided and not guided by the actions of his team.

Leverage is an important book about athleticism, about sportsmanship, and about the cruel truths that happen in a setting that involves extreme competition, alpha male syndrome, and most importantly, steroids. The football coach has let his athletes partake in the use of supplements to make themselves bigger, stronger, and more intimidating; worse though is that the coach supplies these supplements to his players. This lengthy book — over 400 pages — clips along at a rapid pace because there is so much going on, and as readers, we can’t help but hope for some sort of justice in the story. Danny and Kurt make us care. And we want to know what will happen to the coach, to the team leaders who ruin lives.

While I was emotionally invested and knew what was going on was about as real and honest as it could be (and I know this not as someone who has experienced this personally but who spent a lot of time with a guy in high school who quit the football team because of the bullying), I felt that the ending was a bit of a let down. It was the easy way out. Too obvious.

I kept comparing this book to Courtney Summers’s Some Girls Are and I think these two books are excellent (unfortunate, even) readalikes. The grit and honesty, as well as the unflinching look at power dynamics among teenagers is brutal. The biggest difference, I think, is that despite a couple of things that Danny and Kurt do that make them unlikeable, they are ultimately likeable characters. They come out ahead, and they have redeeming qualities.

Cohen’s Leverage will have appeal to boys who are and aren’t athletes, as I think a lot of the experiences in here will ring true in more ways than presented. This is a book for the boys; while girls will surely enjoy it, there is little doubt that boys will get this. There is a real sense of emotion here without it being an emotional story. The emotions are manifested physically, which is true to how guys process the big events in their lives. And I don’t think anyone will be intimidated by the length because it speeds along. There were times I had to put it down because the events were that powerful, but the lapse in time was short. I wanted to see the redemption, the reaction, the way the rest of the story would play out.

Don’t go in with expectations, since they’ll all be tossed. I had an event spoiled for me (by choice) but that didn’t even bother me. There were enough other shocking events in the story to keep me surprised.