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447 pages, Hardcover
First published October 2, 2018
So, what’s this book about?
“Decades of dead girls. Poor girls and rich girls. Black and brown and white girls. All of them Sawkill girls.”
“Girls hunger. And we’re taught, from the moment our brains can take it, that there isn’t enough food for us all.”
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“Screw that book,” said Val. “It was written by men.” She held out her free hand to Marion. “We’re rewriting it.”
➽C H A R A C T E R S
➽T H E M A T I C S
➽A T M O S P H E R E
➽R O M A N C E
➽I N C O N C L U S I O N
“Decades of dead girls. Poor girls and rich girls. Black and brown and white girls. All of them Sawkill girls.”
“A girl with incredible strength. A girl who can vanish. A girl who burns.”
“Tragedy had touched Sawkill, again and again and again, but after each girl’s disappearance, once a respectable amount of time had passed, everyone seemed to stop caring.”
“There was a magnetism to the Mortimer women, and they knew it, and they used it. It was their right, this witchery; they’d given up their souls for it.”
“Girls hunger. And we’re taught, from the moment our brains can take it, that there isn’t enough food for us all.”
Come for a while, reads the sign at Sawkill’s ferry dock, and stay forever.
My little rock, her mother would say. My grave little mountain.
Don’t lose yourself to him, my darling one, Sylvia Mortimer had said. Not all of you. Keep a morsel for yourself.
Zoey’s laugh was bitter. “Oh, and we poor delicate girls are vulnerable and desperate, is that what you’re saying?”
It did not relish tying an innocent to the burden of its ancient might. But the Rock required an infantry.
“What I’m saying is that girls hunger. And we’re taught, from the moment our brains can take it, that there isn’t enough food for us all.”
You are mighty. You are one, and one, and one.
You are fragile. You can move mountains.
You are breakable. You will never break.
This power is mine. And now it is yours, too.
“Why do the monsters eat girls?” she asked at last. Her voice sounded small.
When Marion didn’t answer, Zoey turned on her side to face her. “Marion?”
“Because,” Marion answered, looking beyond Zoey to the sea, “when a predator hunts, it seeks out the vulnerable. The desperate.”
Zoey’s laugh was bitter. “Oh, and we poor delicate girls are vulnerable and desperate, is that what you’re saying?”
“What I’m saying,” Marion said, now looking right at Zoey, her gray eyes bright, “is that girls hunger. And we’re taught, from the moment our brains can take it, that there isn’t enough food for us all.”
“Beware the woods and the dark, dank, deep. He'll follow you home, and he won't let you sleep.”
“Tragedy had touched Sawkill, again and again and again, but after each girl’s disappearance, once a respectable amount of time had passed, everyone seemed to stop caring.”
“Decades of dead girls. Poor girls and rich girls. Black and brown and white girls. All of them Sawkill girls.”
“beware the woods and the dark, dank, deep
he’ll follow you home, and he won’t let you sleep.”
“val's spine snapped to attention, all hungry teeth and whetted knives and manacled rows of bones.”there we have it. 10/10 on the edgy girl power scale. i actually love the whole ‘manacled rows of bones’ but teeth and knives in my spine is less… fortunate.
“red flags flapped in zoey's deepest gut like taut sheaths of skin.”this gave me the weirdest visual in a long, long time. i still don’t quite know how to visualize either the physicality or the emotional feeling of it. i mean, the uncanny sense of red flags i can do, but described like this? No, sorry.
“marion welcomed the sound. she imagined her body opening to receive it. she was not a girl of dense muscle and clumsy bones. she was a network of air-filled tubes, of inflating balloons. she was a symphony warming up before the big night.”again a visual that just completely fucks me up. it starts out just fine, and then devolves into… that. air-filled tubes receiving sound, i can get behind. but inflating balloons? i also associate a symphony orchestra warming up before the big night with things like nervous, hyped, focused energy, which doesn’t appear to be the right emotion here -- but that could be my fault entirely.
“but marion liked the work. it occupied her cells and kept them from endlessly spinning.”at this point, i’m 100% convinced that there is something very very wrong with marion’s anatomy.
“the world shifted, like a cube squeezing through another cube to emerge whole and immense on the other side.”this one probably isn’t quite so bad, but again we have a visual that just completely and utterly cracked me up. this is supposed to be a deeply otherworldly and surrealist scene and this… is not very scary? also, if a cube is the same size of another cube and they pass through each other, why would the first cube be ‘immense’ on the other side??
“then he began to hurt her, with his fists and his words, because that was all he knew how to do. because he was powerful and she was not. because he was man and she was not.”i’m kind of cheating and picking this one not because of the confusing visual, but because this is supposed to be an incredibly tragic culmination of both someone’s past AND the book’s central theme. and yet it’s a perfect illustration of how on-the-nose it gets, as well as how awkwardly it’s written even though it’s meant to evoke empathy, pain, and tragedy.
Decades of dead girls. Poor girls and rich girls. Black and brown and white girls.
All of them Sawkill girls.
“What I’m saying is that girls hunger. And we’re taught, from the moment our brains can take it, that there isn’t enough food for us all.”
Pain is pain. It's not a contest.
In New Jersey, it was the Jersey devil. On Sawkill Rock, it was the Collector.
“Girls hunger. And we're taught, from the moment our brains can take it, that there isn't enough food for us all.”
“You are a small girl. You are mighty. You are fragile. You can move mountains. You are breakable. You will never break.”