Bestselling author Laurie Halse Anderson is known for the unflinching way she writes about, and advocates for, survivors of sexual assault. Now, inspired by her fans and enraged by how little in our culture has changed since her groundbreaking novel Speak was first published twenty years ago, she has written a poetry memoir that is as vulnerable as it is rallying, as timely as it is timeless. In free verse, Anderson shares reflections, rants, and calls to action woven between deeply personal stories from her life that she's never written about before. Searing and soul-searching, this important memoir is a denouncement of our society's failures and a love letter to all the people with the courage to say #metoo and #timesup, whether aloud, online, or only in their own hearts. Shout speaks truth to power in a loud, clear voice-- and once you hear it, it is impossible to ignore.
I love this author. Speak is one of my favorite movies. I love books written in verse. I'm going to add some random quotes from the book. Hold on to your bootstraps. You know I don't like to write big reviews any more.....SPOILERS AHEAD
this book smells like me
woodsmoke
salt
honey and strawberries
sunscreen, libraries
failures and sweat
green nights in the mountains
cold dawns by the sea
this book reeks
of my fear
of depression's black dogs howling
and the ancient shames riding
my back, their claws
buried deep
this book is yesterday's mud
dried on the dance floor
the step patterns
cautiously submitted
for your curious investigation
of what I feel like
on the inside
creator on pic
And then green August, melting-hot
days running out the bottom of the hour-
glass, school time marching
relentlessly toward the children of
summer so intent on capturing
every free minute, like flowers
to be pressed between the pages
of a book. We walked down
the hill to the creek, far away from the heat,
the trees our shade companions, the babble
of water overrunning my need to speak
we tossed pebbles into the water
everything was calm that's what I
remember the calm cuz I was safe
and happy tossing pebbles in the water
next to this tobacco-smelling boy
friend,
so when he turned to kiss
me
my mouth was wet with delight, I was new
to this kind of kiss and happy to play
by the creek with this boy whose handsthen
wandered fast, too fast, too far
like a flash flood overwhelming the startled
backs of a creek that never once thought
of defense, of damming or the need for a bridge
to escape
his hands, arms shoulders back
muscle sinew bone
an avalanche of force
the course predetermined one hand on my mouth
his body covering mine
I took my eyes off the rage
in his face and looked up to the green peace
of leaves fluttering above, trees witnessing
pain shame I crawled into the farthest corner
of my mind biding my time hiding surviving
by outsiding
and when he was done
using my body
he stood and zipped his jeans
lit a cigarette
and walked away.
Creators on pic
I didn't speak up
when that boy raped me, instead I scalded
myself in the shower and turned
me into the ghost of the girl
I once was, my biggest fear
being that my father,
no stranger to gaming
with the devil,
would kill that boy
and it would be my fault.
But that boy who raped me
on the rocks by the creek
got drunk and lay down
on a dark night to play
chicken with the devil
and he lost
I didn't have real friends because a friend is
someone you trust and trust never came easy after that boy
raped me. But I had people to get high with, to share sandwiches
with. Sometimes I had people to walk with in the halls. Being
mocked doesn't hurt as much when someone walks next
to you. I was grateful for my almost-friends.
creators on pic
my I'm fine! mask fit snugly
I only took it off at home,
but when I shared peanut butter chews
with those friends
sometimes I forgot I was wearing it
I studied hard to keep up with them, we listened
to each other and to the same music
we ate a lot of peanut butter chews
the slant of light in the cafeteria
illuminated possibilities
(she was a foreign exchange student)
My home in Denmark taught me how to speak
again, how to reinterpret darkness and light,
strength and softness
it offered me the chance to reorient my compass
redefine my true north
and start over
tens of thousands speak
words ruffling the surface of the sea
into whitecaps, they whisper
into the shoulder of my sweater
they mail
tweet, cry
direct-message
hand me notes
folded into shards
when no one is watching
sharing memories and befuddlement
broken dreams and sorrow
they struggle in the middle
of the ocean, storms battering
grabbing for sliced life jackets
driftwood
flotsam and jetsam from downed
unfound planes, sunken ships
and other disasters
We're all born to fight
but few are ever trained,
instead they tell us
"Be nice."
Danuta's mother survived
a Nazi concentration camp
alive but scarred,
so when the Nazis marched
through her Swedish town in 1985,
Danuta hauled back
and smacked a Nazi
in the head with her purse.
It was a big purse.
She snapped, they said
couldn't take it any more
reached her breaking point
We should each our girls
that snapping is OK,
instead of waiting
for someone else to break them
the names of the charred survivors
who don't know how fucking tough
they are
nestle
hidden
in the fifth chamber
of my heart.
Their courage warms
me from the inside,
stubborn candles
illuminating
this scorched
pumpkin.
Mel
GOODREADS REVIEW
Great! this really helped.
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