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Summary
Summary
Does it get better? The New York Times bestselling author of Crank and Tricks explores the highly charged landscapes of bullying and forgiveness with brilliant sensitivity and emotional resonance.
Matthew Turner knows it doesn't get better.
His younger brother Luke was bullied mercilessly after one of Matt's friends outed Luke to the whole school, and when Luke called Matt--on the brink of suicide--Matt was too wrapped up in his new girlfriend to answer the phone. Now Luke is gone, and Matt's family is falling apart.
No matter what his girlfriend Hayden says about forgiveness, there's no way Matt's letting those he blames off the hook--including himself. As Matt spirals further into bitterness, he risks losing Hayden, the love of his life. But when her father begins to pressure the school board into banning books because of their homosexual content, he begins to wonder if he and Hayden ever had anything in common.
With brilliant sensitivity and emotional resonance, bestselling author Ellen Hopkins's Rumble explores bullying and suicide in a story that explores the worth of forgiveness and reconciliation.
Reviews (5)
Publisher's Weekly Review
In his narration, Heyborne proves once again to be a voice-actor extraordinaire, especially with his portrayal of Matthew Turner, the protagonist. In this book about loss, each emotion of the complicated but immediately sympathetic and likeable young man-including faux indifference, teenage lust, and indignant grieving-is realistically verbalized by Heyborne. Hopkins's story line is logical and progressive, highlighting an endless loss and encompassing grief, the loss of a sibling, suicide, bullying, homosexuality, divorce, and relationships with authorities and peers. Dialogue is thoughtful, yet free-flowing, and Heyborne never fails at vocally embodying the essence of each character. The tale remains consistently cohesive until the last several tracks, when a rushed and unsatisfying ending is saved only by Heyborne's unwavering telling of an otherwise expertly written story. Nevertheless, the coupling of Hopkins's words with Heyborne's voice is still fairly close to a slice of audiobook heaven, and a sequel to this book, offering the reader yet another glimpse of this impressive character in his altered young adulthood, would be most welcome. Ages 14-up. A S&S/McElderry hardcover. (Dec.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
Hopkins' wildly popular novels in verse have covered a wide range of topics, from drug abuse to eating disorders. Here she focuses on faith, through the voice of cynical high-school senior Matthew Turner, whose gay younger brother was bullied into suicide. As the marriage of his alcoholic parents dissolves, Matt turns to his beautiful and very religious girlfriend, Hayden, but finds her pulling away, drawn to her church youth group's dynamic young minister. Secondary characters and plot elements bring in the hot topic of gun control, and the violent climax returns the focus to faith and spirituality. Though set in a small, rural Oregon town, Hopkins' novel taps into common themes of contemporary teen life, with dialogue and details that will speak to teens everywhere. The resolution is tidy and hurried, but Hopkins' many fans won't complain, finding catharsis and comfort in her portrayal of teens facing and surviving myriad societal problems. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: Fans wait eagerly for the next Hopkins book, and this one will be no exception.--Carton, Debbie Copyright 2010 Booklist
New York Review of Books Review
ATHEISTS ARE A despised minority. According to a recent Pew survey, voters are warier of an atheist candidate than of a lesbian, an adulterer or an erstwhile marijuana user. At the same time, atheist pride is waxing in the United States. Atheist tracts share prominent space at airport bookstores with memoirs about dogs and inspirational volumes for aspiring C.E.O.s. Atheist campus groups are multiplying, and polls show growing numbers of Americans identifying with the label. What kind of young people's literature can we expect in the early, heady days of a minority-rights movement? Second-wave feminism spawned some horrid writing (case in point, Jill Johnston's stream-of-consciousness "Lesbian Nation," from 1973), but it primed readers to listen for a greater range of women's voices, in many ways making possible the current flourishing of American fiction. Three new novels feature teenage characters openly skeptical of God's existence, with mixed results for readers. These books suggest that while the New Atheism, Teenage Edition, opens up some fresh possibilities for the Y.A. novel, it may inevitably suffer its own growing pains. "Misdirected," by Ali Berman, is seemingly born more of anger against religious people than of interest in understanding them. When Ben's mother gets a new job, the family moves from Boston to a conservative town in Colorado. Despite being fairly progressive, and irreligious, they enroll him in the far-right Christian Heritage Academy, because it "had a much better reputation" than the public school - a choice that makes sense only to an author needing to chug along her anti-Christian plot Ben becomes a pariah for his atheist views, his only friends down-low atheists and Tess, a neighbor and love interest, who is that rarity in town: an open-minded, nonjudgmental Christian. Tess's parents forbid her to consort with Ben, and the teachers at school are no friendlier. There's a kind of campy comedy to the dialogue at Ben's high school. "You're new here, Ben," his science teacher says, when Ben questions creationism, "so you'll need some time to adjust." He tells Ben to read up on proper biblical science. "Because right now you're saying things that will get you a seat in detention ... and in hell. And I don't think any of us want that, now do we?" Um, no? Ben sure doesn't. But he can't keep his New Englandy mouth shut, and he's run out of school, losing Tess in the process. He ultimately wins some redemption, and Tess, but the tied-off ending is one implausibility among many. Most Christian high schools have a robust underground of doubters, and their teachers are surely tactically shrewd enough not to bludgeon a skeptic with threats of hell - at least not in his first week. The first time 14-year-old Jonathan Stiles meets Jesus Jackson, the "spiritual contractor" and title character of James Ryan Daley's novel, it is two hours after the body of Jonathan's big brother, Ryan, "was found, lifeless and broken, at the bottom of a 60-foot ravine behind St. Soren's," their high school. Jesus Jackson is a handsome, athletic visitor from another cosmos (or something - we never really know); he acts as a sort of spiritual familiar, counseling Jonathan as he tries to find meaning in a world without his brother. If you take the odd, intermittent Jesus Jackson scenes out of the novel, which you really should, what's left is a rather engaging whodunit, as Jonathan searches for clues to Ryan's death. The stock characters in "Jesus Jackson" are no less stock than those in "Misdirected," but they at least have the courage of their teen-melodrama convictions. Evil, drug-using, pseudo-Christian Alistair St. Claire is the best villain a young James Spader never got to play, and Jonathan's sidekick, Henry, is a lonely nerd cut from an early draft of a John Hughes script. Above all, "Jesus Jackson" contains some pretty good adolescent theologizing. It turns out that before he died, Ryan had indoctrinated Jonathan into atheism. In flashbacks, they discuss the contradictions in Scripture and the manifold problems in all man-made religions - this must be the only young adult novel to make time for both Zoroastrianism and Unitarianism. Their spot-on juvenile philosophizing will echo, and bolster, the late-night thoughts of many teenage readers. And given the fate that befalls Ryan, an eminently good guy, his musings on theodicy achieve an added poignancy. "God cannot simultaneously be good, loving and all-powerful," Ryan tells a priest, "if the world he created dooms millions upon millions of its souls to an eternity of torture. Something has to go." It's for the young reader to decide what. Like the narrator of "Jesus Jackson," Matthew, the narrator of Ellen Hopkins's "Rumble," has a dead brother, a devout mom and a cheating dad; like the narrator of "Misdirected," he has a gay sibling, a Christian girlfriend and at one point an erection (boys in Y.A. novels have more, and more visible, erections than boys in real life). In "Rumble," Hopkins's trademark faux-etry, familiar from "Crank" and her other popular books, at least elevates her description of Matthew's erection: "A sudden uncomfortable tug/Just south of my belt buckle reminds / me that a locker-heavy hallway is so not / the place to think about such things./Glad I wore Jockeys today." (By contrast, from "Misdirected": "I'm just glad I already put my napkin on my lap.") Bullied after coming out as gay, Luke, Matthew's brother, hanged himself. Matthew blames most everyone, including himself, and he's in the kind of depressive funk that makes high school counselors perk up. At the beginning of the novel, he's sent for guidance after writing an essay accusing God of genocide. ("We could in theory go all the way back to Noah.") Meanwhile, his girlfriend, Hayden, has been growing closer to the Lord - leading Matthew, who's in the mood to sin, to grow closer to Hayden's best friend, Alexa. Hayden's youth pastor, Judah, turns out to be a callous jerk, straight from evangelical central casting. "Luke was weak," he tells Matthew about his dead gay brother. "Suicide is the ultimate weakness of the mind. ... Homosexual behavior is weakness of the flesh." This sinister pastoral style is no more believable than at the high school in "Misdirected," but here the cartoonish religion is played against Matthew's equally cartoonish rage against God, which helps make "Rumble" a satisfying, pleasingly gloomy, and at times sexy book. Hopkins seems more interested in plot than in atheism. And atheists have every reason to be thankful. MARK OPPENHEIMER writes the Beliefs column for The Times. He currently holds the Corcoran visiting chair in Christian-Jewish relations at Boston College.
School Library Journal Review
Gr 9 Up-Matt Turner's world is falling apart-his beloved younger brother was bullied into suicide and his home life is in turmoil. He is angry at God, who let it all happen, and he's sick of hearing that he has to forgive, even when the message comes from Hayden, his loving girlfriend, who's spending an increasing amount of time with her youth ministry group-and its handsome young leader. Matt decides to live life as he wants, even if that means making not-so-great choices, but when an event happens that's out of Matt's control, he is forced to reexamine his position. Ultimately, this is a story of redemption, faith, and forgiveness. Narrator Kirby Heyborne gives life and voice to the author's characters. VERDICT This book will appeal to Hopkins's fans, as well as students seeking to explore homosexuality, PTSD, and dysfunctional family relationships.-Amanda Rollins, Northwest Village School, Plainville, CT (c) Copyright 2015. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
Almost six months after his younger brothers suicide, a high school senior slogs through tangled resentment and guilt.Matts world has never been rich with happiness, what with his cold parents who retreat to their separate alcohol-soaked / corners. Dad bitterly rues the one-night stand that created Matt and forced the marriage; their house is a sponge, / absorbing regret until it can hold / no more and disillusionment drips // through the bloated pores. Now Matt shoulders his own crushing regret. Luke was three years youngerMatt should have protected him from the homophobic and religious bullies; he should have told adults how depressed Luke was, even sneaking Moms Prozac, which can be dangerous for teens. He definitely shouldnt have been distracted by his girlfriend on Lukes last, desperate day. Now that very girlfriend seems to be trading [Matt] in // for Jesus. The sturdy, fast-reading free-verse poemswhich sometimes shift into elegancegive a heavy sense of Matts anger and discomfort, as well as how he vacillates between decency and churlishness. Themes of combat-induced PTSD, Christian fundamentalist bigotry, forgiveness, and foreshadowed violence integrate deftly. The climax surprises in the best way. Brief but explicit acknowledgement of the It Gets Better campaign (and why it didnt help Luke) grounds the contemporary setting.Readers devour Hopkins regardless, but this is strong and worthy. (Verse fiction. 14-18) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.