Christian and Jonah spent a few short months, as teenagers, living in the same house with a foster mother they both cared for deeply. They had a connection back then and it looks to have carried over fifteen years later when they meet back at that same house for the funeral for Marisol. Looks to have is admittedly an understatement. When they first meet at the house on the day of the funeral, the zingers are already shooting back and forth, verbal and otherwise. It’s awkward and intense and electric and, given the circumstances, neither of them does a great job in dealing with any of it. Who really would? It’s something we’ve all probably experienced: you see someone, with whom you had a palpable connection, for the first time after so long. The last time you did see each other, it was an intense situ, you were teenagers. And now, you’re both dealing with the death of the one adult who seems to have truly cared for you and did something about it, as well. No matter how much time has passed, you go right back to that place emotionally, mentally, physically – your adult bodies and minds commanded by thoughts, memories and emotions from the turbulent teen years. Even though you know that fifteen years of experience have shaped you, that all burns away in the ashes of your wants and fears and scars and hopes. The impression I get from the writing style is almost one of an attempt to be on a more refined plane than the subject matter, too big for its britches. It’s not necessary as this is an earthy, real story and can be treated and presented as such. Thankfully this only took me out of the story a couple of times. The offender for the most part is the variety of descriptors used for parts of the body and what they do – I just started chuckling, just now. I’m more than fine with the vast majority of them, but when pucker, anus and hole are all used in one elongated sentence, it removes me from the mood of the scene – that’s just me. The word “chute” is the killer. Laundry chute? Chimney chute? Which then leads me to chimney sweep and Dick Van Dyke and Mary Poppins and just … no.I digress… That really is the only issue I had with this story. The author does a more than fine job in allowing us to feel the sadness, heat, connection, longing, fear, doubts and so much more between Christian and Jonah. There’s the tasting, and the tenderness, and the self-preservation in the form of putting up those walls. There’s Jonah not realizing how in tune he really is, not giving himself credit, and there’s Christian and his fear of not getting through to Jonah, that he doesn’t have enough. The interesting contrast to that is they are both rather self-aware when it comes to their flaws and their feelings, how real they are, what they want. It’s the hurdle of actually arriving at the point of allowing yourself to live it. It’s rather amazing when you finally find someone who unlocks life for you, gives you shelter and peace and merely asks you to accept that gift, nothing in return. They, of course, will get it because you feel the same and will do anything to give it to them. This book didn’t hook me from word one but I am so very glad I stayed with it Oh, and the scene in the grass... tis all I'm saying. ;)
