My Review:This exceptional debut novel captures a sparkling new voice and irrepressible heroine in a celebration of storytelling sure to thrill fans of Nicola Yoon, Ibi Zoboi and Jenna Evans Welch!
When a school presentation goes very wrong, Alaine Beauparlant finds herself suspended, shipped off to Haiti and writing the report of a lifetime…
You might ask the obvious question: What do I, a seventeen-year-old Haitian American from Miami with way too little life experience, have to say about anything?
Actually, a lot.
Thanks to “the incident” (don’t ask), I’m spending the next two months doing what my school is calling a “spring volunteer immersion project.” It’s definitely no vacation. I’m toiling away under the ever-watchful eyes of Tati Estelle at her new nonprofit. And my lean-in queen of a mother is even here to make sure I do things right. Or she might just be lying low to dodge the media sharks after a much more public incident of her own…and to hide a rather devastating secret.
All things considered, there are some pretty nice perks…like flirting with Tati’s distractingly cute intern, getting actual face time with my mom and experiencing Haiti for the first time. I’m even exploring my family’s history—which happens to be loaded with betrayals, superstitions and possibly even a family curse.
You know, typical drama. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.
I think I had high expectations for this one and I still love the cover so much! I found myself bored and I don't think the fact that the ARC was not properly formatted helped. This is a great concept and had some unique aspects but it needs editing -- the authors really need to better find a voice. Also, for a book told in only other writings - diary entries, texts, phone calls, emails, etc. . . . that aspect was not done as well as other books I've read that employed that same tactic. I usually love books like that but this one was a bit of a disappointment.
What have I got to lose? The sad truth is that I'm already losing my mother. Whether I sit down and accept her diagnosis or not, each day that goes by is one less with her. That terrifies me. She's not perfect but she's mine, and she's all I've ever wanted to be. I dream of being as passionate about something as she is about her work. These days, I cry into my pillow, imagining a future where I won't have her around to disappoint. I always figured we would get closer when I got older and more mature. Now I'm not sure she'll be around to see me hit thirty (the age when presumably all juvenile problems melt away and peak humanhood is reached).