Wintergirls
The New York Times bestselling story of a friendship frozen between life and death. "A fearless, riveting account of a young woman in the grip of a deadly illness." --The New York Times Lia and Cassie are best friends, wintergirls frozen in fragile bodies, competitors in a deadly contest to see who can be the thinnest. But then Cassie suffers the ultimate loss--her life--and Lia is left behind, haunted by her friend's memory and racked with guilt for not being able to help save her. In her most powerfully moving novel since Speak, award-winning author Laurie Halse Anderson explores Lia's struggle, her painful path to recovery, and her desperate attempts to hold on to the most important thing of all: hope.
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Community Reviews
This was a beautiful, necessary book. I loved it. There are so many girls I know and have known who struggle with this kind of thing. Every girl I know struggles with body issues, but some of them take it that one step further: cutting, starving, binging, purging. I've always had body issues, but I never had the willpower or determination it took to starve myself, but if I had, I think this book would have helped me.
It is the story of Lia, a young girl who is lost. In her situation, her parents divorced, neither or them really wanted to see her or interact with her in a meaningful way, and she just wanted to fade into the background. There are millions of reasons why girls and boys try to starve themselves into oblivion, but I think Lia's case is a common one in modern America. All these parents pushing and pushing, all these kids who can't keep up and are disappointments, and then act out because they don't like being a disappointment but they can't keep going with all the soccer practices and clubs and swim meets and violin recitals and good grades and a social life and being at home and being a child and a friend and a sibling and their own person. There's a lot of pressure on young people. And young people are cruel: to themselves, to others. It's a difficult time, to say the least. I look back on that time in my life and I don't miss it a single bit. I know people who say that high school was the best time in their life. That's because they were the popular ones and their lives peaked then. I feel bad for them, but I feel worse for the kids who are in the middle of it right now and who are suffering. There are so many kids who are suffering.
I teach small children and big children, but not really the in-between children. But if I did, I would want to read this in class. When I was in 9th grade, we read a book called Please Stop Laughing at Me. It was intended to keep up from bullying each other, to give us the perspective of someone who was bullied incessantly and we were supposed to feel bad and not do it to each other. I did feel bad, but I was more worried that my boobs would grow in wrong like the girl in the story. I was more worried that what had happened to her would happen to me, rather than me avoiding doing that to someone else. This book, though, I really feel provided better insight into the world of the elusive teenager. There were so many things the narrator said that just made so much sense to me: about being lost, about knowing deep down she needed help but not knowing how to stop, about why she was doing what she was doing. I would certainly pick this book over the one I had to read in 9th grade.
*Spoilers*
The best thing, though, about this book, for me, was that there was a turning point. I was kind of worried that she was just going to die and that would be the end of everything, but she realized what was happening and made a conscious choice to get better. I do with there was more with her recovery, more to help the girls after they make the decision to live, but it was still better than other books I've read.
*End Spoilers*
All told, I loved this book. It was beautifully written, poetically, lyrically. It was engaging. I picked it up and barely put it down. It was hopeful. It was truthful. It was ugly and it was horrific. It was what a Young Adult fiction book needs to be: understanding, helpful, optimistic but not too much. Realistic. I really truly think that young people need literature the most. They need it to help them sort out their lives: who they are, how they should treat others, how they should treat themselves, what their place is. I think we don't give it to them like they need. I think we just want to shove classic literature down their unwilling throats. I love classic literature, I do, but I don't think it's what most of them need. I think it's what a select few need: an old world to disappear into. But I think most of them need tools for what's happening to them in the here and now. This book is a tool. I think we should offer it to them more often.
It is the story of Lia, a young girl who is lost. In her situation, her parents divorced, neither or them really wanted to see her or interact with her in a meaningful way, and she just wanted to fade into the background. There are millions of reasons why girls and boys try to starve themselves into oblivion, but I think Lia's case is a common one in modern America. All these parents pushing and pushing, all these kids who can't keep up and are disappointments, and then act out because they don't like being a disappointment but they can't keep going with all the soccer practices and clubs and swim meets and violin recitals and good grades and a social life and being at home and being a child and a friend and a sibling and their own person. There's a lot of pressure on young people. And young people are cruel: to themselves, to others. It's a difficult time, to say the least. I look back on that time in my life and I don't miss it a single bit. I know people who say that high school was the best time in their life. That's because they were the popular ones and their lives peaked then. I feel bad for them, but I feel worse for the kids who are in the middle of it right now and who are suffering. There are so many kids who are suffering.
I teach small children and big children, but not really the in-between children. But if I did, I would want to read this in class. When I was in 9th grade, we read a book called Please Stop Laughing at Me. It was intended to keep up from bullying each other, to give us the perspective of someone who was bullied incessantly and we were supposed to feel bad and not do it to each other. I did feel bad, but I was more worried that my boobs would grow in wrong like the girl in the story. I was more worried that what had happened to her would happen to me, rather than me avoiding doing that to someone else. This book, though, I really feel provided better insight into the world of the elusive teenager. There were so many things the narrator said that just made so much sense to me: about being lost, about knowing deep down she needed help but not knowing how to stop, about why she was doing what she was doing. I would certainly pick this book over the one I had to read in 9th grade.
*Spoilers*
The best thing, though, about this book, for me, was that there was a turning point. I was kind of worried that she was just going to die and that would be the end of everything, but she realized what was happening and made a conscious choice to get better. I do with there was more with her recovery, more to help the girls after they make the decision to live, but it was still better than other books I've read.
*End Spoilers*
All told, I loved this book. It was beautifully written, poetically, lyrically. It was engaging. I picked it up and barely put it down. It was hopeful. It was truthful. It was ugly and it was horrific. It was what a Young Adult fiction book needs to be: understanding, helpful, optimistic but not too much. Realistic. I really truly think that young people need literature the most. They need it to help them sort out their lives: who they are, how they should treat others, how they should treat themselves, what their place is. I think we don't give it to them like they need. I think we just want to shove classic literature down their unwilling throats. I love classic literature, I do, but I don't think it's what most of them need. I think it's what a select few need: an old world to disappear into. But I think most of them need tools for what's happening to them in the here and now. This book is a tool. I think we should offer it to them more often.
Beautiful prose, as is typical of this author. Intensely triggering, which I would not have taken such issue with if it wasn't so clear that this book was intended for and about teen girls rather than young adults. Make sure you're in the right headspace to read this, if you decide to. Have a clear head and positive, if not at least neutral, feelings about yourself and your body. Take breaks if you need to.
I read [b:Speak|439288|Speak|Laurie Halse Anderson|https:d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1310121762s/439288.jpg|118521] over a decade ago. I don't remember anything about it except that my sixteen-year-old self thought it was amazing.
Now I remember why I loved it. Daaaaamn...that is some fantastic writing, Anderson.
No summary really needed on this other than a simple: Lia is anorexic. Her former best friend Cassie had bulimia and died alone in a motel room. Cassie tried to call Lia her (many, many times) the night she died. This book is Lia dealing with her anorexia and with the loss of this friend. This book is Lia's obsessive thoughts. You may not like Lia. She may in fact annoy you. And that is probably because you cannot understand her if you have not gone through this yourself.
I found it hard to justify her thoughts and her actions because I have no idea what this would really feel like. I was irritated with her selfishness at times. And yet I found it absolutely fascinating to be inside her head. I loved the use of the crossed out words (what I want to say/think versus what I am supposed to say/think) and the number of calories behind every food that passed her lips.
There were times that I thought the book was getting a little tedious, a little repetitive. This is hard to avoid when there isn't a lot of action going on other than an internal struggle. It started to pick up, however, as she spiraled further out of control (it is hard to catch at first because she convinces herself she is in control).
My only complaint is that I felt a little disconnected. I didn't cry or have any strong feelings towards any of the characters. But the writing was gorgeous and the images of Lia may haunt me for a long time. A parting line that I think really summed this one up for me:
(Who wants to recover? It took me years to get that tiny. I wasn't sick; I was strong.)
Now I remember why I loved it. Daaaaamn...that is some fantastic writing, Anderson.
No summary really needed on this other than a simple: Lia is anorexic. Her former best friend Cassie had bulimia and died alone in a motel room. Cassie tried to call Lia her (many, many times) the night she died. This book is Lia dealing with her anorexia and with the loss of this friend. This book is Lia's obsessive thoughts. You may not like Lia. She may in fact annoy you. And that is probably because you cannot understand her if you have not gone through this yourself.
I found it hard to justify her thoughts and her actions because I have no idea what this would really feel like. I was irritated with her selfishness at times. And yet I found it absolutely fascinating to be inside her head. I loved the use of the crossed out words (what I want to say/think versus what I am supposed to say/think) and the number of calories behind every food that passed her lips.
There were times that I thought the book was getting a little tedious, a little repetitive. This is hard to avoid when there isn't a lot of action going on other than an internal struggle. It started to pick up, however, as she spiraled further out of control (it is hard to catch at first because she convinces herself she is in control).
My only complaint is that I felt a little disconnected. I didn't cry or have any strong feelings towards any of the characters. But the writing was gorgeous and the images of Lia may haunt me for a long time. A parting line that I think really summed this one up for me:
(Who wants to recover? It took me years to get that tiny. I wasn't sick; I was strong.)
This book has absolutely gorgeous writing and phrases. I underlined passages like a fiend. It's beautiful, heartbreaking, and gloriously sad. Triggers for eating disorders, but if you can handle the premise, it's an important read.
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