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384 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 1993
She had decided to live. If she could not think of certain things, she would not think of them. There were other things to think of, immediate things.I recently got rid of someone from my feed on this website for laughing at trigger warnings, so if you're of the same opinion of that particular sot, take yourself out. It's bad enough that I have to pick apart my students at work for hurling the phrase "triggered" around, as if it wasn't scary enough for neuroatypicals and sexual assault survivors, what with movies like Split and the rest (You know around 70% of people with DID developed it as a result of being sexual assaulted as a child, right? No? And yet you get off on watching them being portrayed as monsters. Who's the monster here.) running around. Despite having switched from an open profile to a closed one and pruning those who treat with violent hierarchies as the oh-so-hip slang from the so-called friends list, I need to reiterate how not "nice" I am in reviews like these in hopes that'll cut down on the friend requests that keep on coming from those who want my words and my reading tastes without having to deal with me. You want my knowledge and my critical thinking? Work for it.
There were some things that took life and broke it, not merely into meaninglessness, but with active malice flung the pieces farther, into hell.I've never been raped. This means I've never been raped by a family member. As such, I'm not going to argue with any review that says this whole book is a travesty when it comes to portraying the experiences of survivors of such. What I can say for certain is that this book portrays rape culture to a tee, and when it comes to the more subtle aspects of the build up, I sure hope the misguided accusations and violent burying of heads in the sand struck some readers in the gut, for there are too many ratings for there not to have been a pusher of the slogans of "she was asking for it" or "he couldn't help himself" in its crowd. See, rape happens as much as it does and is as ignored as much as it is because of gamers using it as casual slang (do not come at me with the archaic definition of "to take" because I will take your lack of context and shove it up your ass) and government officials defining it as a preexisting condition that insurance companies can refuse to cover and no one, save for a few cases, talking about it except those who have not experienced it, with those who have committed it being the loudest of the bunch. It starts with the father leering awkwardly at to close a range at the girls at his daughter's birthday party at the pool, comes up in the middle with the oh so famous John Green conflating discomfort with aged cis males intruding into spaces for young females with an accusation of sexual assault (and getting half the Internet behind him, as if his ego wasn't pampered enough), and ends with the US wearing its latest president with his baggage of lawsuits of sexual assaults of all ages like a badge of honor.
No one of us is so whole that [they] can see the future.This is a book of neglect, degradation, and healing. How accurately it portrays the degradation and healing is a complicated question, as this is the fantasy world portrayed by the books that I read when I was younger, and the more adult themes (we call these things adult when it is the children whom we refuse to stand for) does not cancel out the dragons, or the time travel, or the haunting. The only way to find out would be to give those whom have been hurt in this way control over their narratives of representation, and that will not happen so long as it's normalized that the Average Joe laughs instead of listens and the Average Jane ostracizes instead of supports. So long as that's the case, the Average Person will find it easier to expect that the survivors simply not survive so that they may get on with their fearless and flawless lives. The chemicals in your brain won't protect you forever.
Ammy saw the fear, and her friendly heart was shaken by the knowledge that any human creature could fear her own laughter.Revisiting McKinley after so long a time is a bit of a windfall, as I can't imagine myself capable of hashing out my thoughts on these issues at the time I added this book on this site, or even when I finally acquired a copy. Like all of her other works that I encounter, plan to encounter, and will inevitably reencounter, this is a play on a fairy tale, and the whole weight of Disney as a branch of the white supremacist patriarchy cannot erase the origins of a degradation many a society attempts to smother the evidence of today. There are still videos of children being gang raped circling the Internet, there are still senior citizens being rendered unable to function for the rest of the week because someone didn't warn them that their movie contained sexual assault, there is still a cavalier attitude towards a kind of inflicted pain that does not kill you and does not make you stronger indoctrinated by an academia more concerned with plagiarism than the souls of its students. I will not argue with anyone who thinks themselves threatened by what I have to say here, as my time and my energy are my own, and I will not spend it on sea lions and dog whistlers. The fact that, once upon a time, you looked away when you should have done something is not my concern. I don't have nightmares about any such thing, and you're welcome to yours.