The Forest of Hands and Teeth

by Carrie Ryan

It doesn't often happen that a book elicits such a strong emotional response from me, yet I am unable to determine the simple fact of whether or not I like it or would recommend it. I read the first third of The Forest of Hands and Teeth one day and was raving about it. Oh my goodness, this is so good, I am in love with it. I read almost the rest of it the following day and started ranting about it. I hate this book, I'm only going to finish it because I'm so close to the end and I want to know what happens, but I really, really don't like it. Then I finished it, and am somewhat undecided.

The setting is post-apocalyptic, in a small, fenced-off village that is protected from the outside forest and from the creatures that inhabit it: the Unconsecrated. (Or, as we would call them: zombies.)

The plot is intense, with excellent pacing. I agree with Sarah Miller's review when she says, "Carrie Ryan created an entire society, plunged me into it, and parceled out its history and secrets bit by bit -- just enough to make me feel continually intrigued instead of lost or frustrated." The main character's internal struggles with loss and fear and love and wanting more than she can have were vivid and I empathized with and related to her. I liked her mental/emotional arc very much. The feel of the book reminded me a lot of the film The Village, and whether or not that was intentional, it was something I liked about it.

What I didn't like was the sick feeling I had in my stomach every time I picked up the book. I felt this way in the beginning, too, but it didn't become overwhelming until about halfway through. The claustrophobia and aching I had just thinking of the characters' predicament was tremendous and awful and unlike anything I've ever felt while reading a book. The reality of their situation and of the terrible, horrific world they live in was something that almost ruined my entire reading experience. Despite all that is wrong in this world of ours, despite the sin and corruption and sadness and fear, I believe it to be a beautiful place. A world of light and hope and trust and loveliness. If I didn't believe this, why would I want to stay alive? The world of The Forest of Hands and Teeth drowned me with its darkness.

Call me sensitive if you will, but I don't think that's my problem here. I read a lot of books with heavy, hard topics and situations. Books that make me feel dark emotions. But never have I felt so consistently . . . unhappy, while reading. The intense unhappiness lingered even when I wasn't reading it. Even with the small bits of hope and sacrifice and goodness that were in the book, I couldn't reconcile the sense of despair that permeated me the entire time.

The story is fascinating. The characters are real and vivid and wonderful. The emotional complexities of the heroine are explored remarkably well. I might even want to read the companion novel, The Dead-Tossed Waves, which comes out in a few months. In other words, there were things about this book that I really did enjoy. I'm just not sure it was worth the feelings of despair that came with it. Even when the characters weren't despairing, I was. Constantly.

If you've read the book, please let me know your thoughts . . . I'm curious to hear if anyone else reacted to the book the way I did.

"If you're not failing every now and again,
it's a sign you're not doing anything very innovative."
-Woody Allen

this is going to be my current motto, for a secret project that i could label as stupid, but choose to label as innovative.

it's all about taking chances.
risks.

one can at least aim for fearlessness.

first aid kit

Wanderers this morning came by
Where did they go
Graceful in the morning light
To banner fair
To follow you softly
In the cold mountain air

Through the forest
Down to your grave
Where the birds wait
And the tall grasses wave
They do not
know you anymore

Dear shadow alive and well
How can the body die
You tell me everything
Anything true

In the town one morning I went
Staggering through premonitions of my death
I don't see anybody that dear to me

Dear shadow alive and well
How can the body die
You tell me everything
Anything true

Jesse
I don't know what I have done
I'm turning myself to a demon
I don't know what I have done
I'm turning myself to a demon

the world,
he said.
it overwhelms me.
the lights
and the prayers
and the little birds
against the sky.

and it's all revolving
around me.
the central pull,
the thing called gravity,
is me.

she was talking about me
when I came in the room
and you rushed over
to offer me a drink
and he winked at me
and told a joke,
hoping I'd laugh.

I want the whole world
to spend a month looking
at a glass of water.

mesmerized
by tiny droplets
of this wet substance
that, when combined,
become one
giant droplet
and we push it
down our throats,
gulping savagely
for the texture,
the taste,
the life.

it's clear
and it's magic
and it's all contained
in a jar of glass,
which is itself another miracle.

the water is what's important.
the water is what we should talk about,
and peer at,
and say our prayed thank yous for.

stop watching my movement,
stop asking me to dance,
stop caressing my hair.

look at the glass of water.

I want you to look
at the glass of water.

look at the water.

I'm asking nicely.
(and now you go
to look at it.
and now you are doing
what I've said.
because I've said.

and still
the world
revolves around
me.)




_____
copyright Miss Erin McIntosh, 2009
please do not reprint without permission
Poetry Friday roundup at Random Noodling

December readergirlz: TAMORA PIERCE

This month, readergirlz is honored to feature renowned fantasy author Tamora Pierce! We're discussing her duology Trickster's Choice and Trickster's Queen.

Read the December issue of readergirlz. There's a playlist for the book, plus book guide questions and party ideas.

Drop by the readergirlz blog to discuss the book with other readers, ALL MONTH LONG!

And don't forget to join us for the LIVE! chat with Tamora on Wednesday, December 16th at 6 pm PST/9 pm EST.



One more exciting tidbit: rgz received the National Book Foundation’s first Innovations in Reading Prize. From over 150 entries, rgz was chosen as a program that innovatively sustains a love of reading for life. Yay readergirlz!!

[nine days]

dear you

letters to a whole bunch of different people, from me.
anonymously.

think of it as
a thousand messages
in bottles,

borne on the wind
like dandelion seeds
pushed away by my breath

dear you,
i have completely lost all respect for you. i am sick of it all.

dear you,
i do want to talk to you but i'm afraid of losing connection

dear you,
i want to stay up for hours talking to you on the phone.

dear you,
how old is your younger brother? oh and p.s. i miss you

dear you,
please please please i'll give anything for that second opportunity

dear you,
i admire you. and thank you.

dear you,
do you even care?
it's an honest question.
can i get an honest answer?

dear you,
i wish my excitement wouldn't make you sad.

dear you,
she used to have a crush on you, and i used to be jealous of you. don't worry, we've both changed.

dear you,
if you see a girl you don't recognize and have never met come up to you and slap you across your face, that would be me.

dear you,
you're pathetic and making people feel that way isn't nice. have a good life. just not around us.

dear you,
i wouldn't mind if you asked me. i might not say yes but it would feel good just the same.

dear you,
i like you a lot and you mean quite a bit to me. i'd like you to know that.

dear you,
here isn't the same as it used to be, so please don't miss it.

dear you,
when i first heard you i thought you were incredible, and despite everything else, i still do.

dear you,
i thought you were kind of annoying, but you're nicer than a lot of people, so thanks.

dear you,
i don't know about some people, but i like you.

dear you,
you are one of the beautifulest people i know, and i wish you would never feel rotten because you actually do deserve the best.

dear you,
you should really wake up. (and shape up.)

dear you,
rachel berry reminds me of you. not sure if that's a good thing or not. hmm.

dear you,
stop limiting yourself.

dear you,
the whiplash you give off sometimes makes my head spin.

dear you,
you were in the best dream i've ever had. here's guessing you'll never know that.

dear you,
don't try so hard. and don't patronize. or complain. or use that attitude on me.

dear you,
oh my, i used to dislike you. probably a good thing we're not in each other's lives anymore. how's your darling girl? better off without me? i thought you'd say that.

dear you,
the last thing i did before writing this, i did to spite you. i don't even want to spite you. what is wrong with me?

dear you,
'and i answered back, i don't know what to say to that"

dear you,
i'm online and you're online and i want to say hi but something's holding me back even though just a second ago i was thinking about how much i wanted to hear from you.

dear you,
i don't know why, but i need you to care. i need you to show me you care.

dear you,
people like you. so do i. but i also want to shake you when you say stuff like that.

there were carnival lights
across the water

(and I can taste the cotton candy,
the sugary nothingness
that melts like snow,
but sweeter and softer)

the lights were speaking to me
like the eyes of a gypsy

(and I can feel her callused fingers
rubbing the palms of my hands
and the words spoken there
were in the look she gave me after)

if the waters were less dangerous
maybe I would swim

(the scars on my shoulders
screaming from the stress
as my hands chop like knives
through the dark waves)

you were comparable to one of the stars
that shine above the blue now

(the insects are attracted to the light,
the brown ugly ones along
with the iridescent glitterers
that fake their way upwards)

I remember the naked people,
souls exposed through circus fire

(and I am one of the thinkers,
or I would not think these words.
and I am one of the fighters,
or I would not oppose these feelings.)

the beacon, the stars, the red,
the uncomfortably warm letters

(you said I believed in something,
and I told you, yes, I believed
in your pale lips. those
everyman lies.)

goodbye, night. goodbye, lights.
my feet are turning away.


_____
copyright Miss Erin McIntosh, 2009
please do not reprint without permission
Poetry Friday roundup at Wild Rose Reader