School Library Journal Review
Gr 8 Up-Alice lost her mother to cancer years earlier. Now 16, she finds herself burdened with a stepmother and a new baby sister. Unable to accept her new life, she retreats into herself and thwarts any attempt at togetherness on the part of her family. Instead, she focuses her energy on her dog, Cobain; the music she plays at church with her best friend, Claire; and her rebel boyfriend. Fresh from an argument with Claire and confusion over whether or not to sleep with Blaze, Alice finds herself stuck at her stepmother's parents' home for Thanksgiving. When disaster strikes during a blizzard on the drive home, she is forced to take stock of herself and her family for the first time. At first, Alice's rampant use of cliches can be distracting (Claire knows her like "a druggie knows her best vein"; the first time she locked eyes with Blaze "was like a rocket blasting off into space"). However, the story is told by a teenager, and the cliches lend authenticity to the voice of an angst-ridden young woman. Schroeder weaves Alice in Wonderland (both Alice's namesake and her mother's favorite book) references throughout the book to echo the topsy-turvy nature of her protagonist's life. It is this roller coaster of emotions to which many teen readers will relate. A quick, yet satisfying, novel in verse.-Jill Heritage Maza, Greenwich High School, CT (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Horn Book Review
After her mother's death, Alice clings to heartache and bitterness. While snowbound in a car with her stepmother and baby sister, she begins to unravel years' worth of grief as she comes to appreciate the people who love her. Though eventually Alice starts sounding like a broken record, her pain leaps off the pages of this verse novel. (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted. All rights reserved.
Kirkus Review
Genuine emotion balances unremarkable verse in this tale of healing. Alice is bitter over her mother's death from cancer years ago and her father's ongoing emotional distance. A stepmother and newborn half sister render Alice both scornful and jealous. Soon she's estranged from church and also from her best friend, who finds Ali's song lyrics too gloomy. Readers may simultaneously sympathize with Alice's ceaseless grief and wish she could do more than whimper about it, but nothing shifts until the family (minus dad) is stranded in the snow. Four days in a snowbound car, first with her stepmother and then alone with tiny baby Ivy, slowly reopen Ali's heart. The first-person verse is sometimes quite plain ("After church / we went out / for doughnuts / and coffee"), sometimes clichd and heavy-handed like a real teen diary ("Like the North Star, / ever present in the sky, / regret shines brightly / in my soul"). Despite the sense that Schroeder leans too heavily on line breaks for drama, the accessibility and heartache will attract many readers. (Fiction. YA) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
here she comes Muffled voices outside my door that October morning woke me and took me from a peaceful place to one I'd come to hate. When one of them stepped into my room, the hallway light landed on my closed eyelids, urging them to open like a hand pulling on a doorknob. "It's time," Dad said. I didn't open my eyes. I didn't move. I didn't speak. "Ali, you awake?" I gave a little grunt. The event wasn't worth wasting breath on. "We'll call you later. When she's here." Pause. "I love you," he said quickly and quietly. It's pretty sad when you have to think about it before you say it. just breathe The clock read 4:13 a.m. My dog, Cobain, slept at the foot of my bed. I changed directions and curled up next to his warm body, feeling the rhythm of his breathing. I stroked his golden fur, and my heartbeats s o f t e n e d. He breathed. I breathed. Soon my breaths were slow and steady, in sync with his. Cobain. My oxygen tank. He breathed. I breathed. The garage door rumbled open beneath me. They were gone. Gone until they'd come back with her. Then there'd be me. He breathed. I breathed. They knew her name. But they wouldn't tell me. It'll be a surprise, Victoria had said, like a surprise is a good thing. My stepmom. Victoria. She reminded me of a chameleon lizard, with her annoying habit of curling her tongue up just slightly, and touching her top lip, when she was concentrating. A chameleon. One minute sweet as chocolate cake. The next, sour and possessive, like an old banker. Once upon a time he and I were close. Dad. We'd cook together, watch basketball together, and make up silly jingles together, since advertising is his line of work. Things changed. Victoria moved in. He changed. It's like he tried to move on to greener pastures, but the tractor in the barn, once adored, became a nuisance and kept him connected to the painful past. I squeezed in closer to Cobain. He breathed. I breathed. I could see Dad holding his new baby girl. Smiling. Happy. Totally in love. He'd breathe. She'd breathe. Then there'd be me. the short version Mom got cancer. Cancer sucks. She died. Dad remarried. The end. our time is now After a while I got up, showered, and put on my favorite jeans, a white shirt, my black jacket, and my combat boots. I grabbed my battered, scuffed-up guitar case and headed outside. The sunlight streamed through the tree in our front yard, lighting up the yellow leaves, creating a brilliant golden statue that moved magically when the breeze blew. Amazing. I love fall. Fall in Seattle. The season of warm colors. I thought about calling Blaze, to see if I could talk him into going, but he likes church about as much as the queen likes profanity. It's the one thing between us that feels like a tiny splinter in your foot. Painful and annoying, but difficult to remove. Blaze and I met at a concert last spring. Our eyes locked just as Mudhoney took the stage, and it was like a rocket blasting off into space. I felt heat and my body trembled and forces beyond my control pulled me to him as the music ripped through our bodies. I didn't know his name. He didn't know mine. And yet, it was like we'd known each other forever. My best friend, Claire, was with me, and she kept trying to pull me away, like she was afraid for my life. Silly girl. Nothing to worry about. If anything, he sparked a fire inside of me, making me want to live again. the peace I need I pulled up in my old Nova. Claire got in wearing a long, flowing purple skirt and a silky, smooth black blouse. She makes all of her own clothes. Fashion is her passion. I think she should be a singer. She's the voice to the music we make at church. Like hot cocoa and a soft blanket and fuzzy slippers, warming you up top to bottom. Raspy and sweet all at the same time. I used to envy her, but then I decided to just be thankful for making incredible music together. My music was complete because of Claire. She got in and threw a CD in my lap. "Your turn to listen." The church we go to, Center for Spiritual Living, makes CDs of the sermons and the music. After I backed out, I looked at Claire, but my smile didn't want to come out and play. "What's wrong?" she asked. She knows me like a druggie knows his best vein. "They went to the hospital. Early this morning." She gave a nod of understanding. I drove in silence. That is, until she reached over and popped the CD in the player Blaze had installed for my birthday. We listened to her sing the words: Pain in your heart. You're playing the part of a human in need. You beg and you plead Wash it away. Wash it away. Give me the peace, the peace I need. I wrote that song. Funny how time goes on, things change, and yet, some things stay exactly the same. Copyright (c) 2009 by Lisa Schroeder Excerpted from Far from You by Lisa Schroeder All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
