Paperback ©2008 | -- |
Starred Review Scott gives the phrase emotionally wrenching a whole new meaning in this searing book. When Alice was 10, Ray abducted her from a class trip and taught her how to be a "good girl." After five years of horrifying sexual and emotional abuse, Alice believes no one will help her. Despite near starvation, wax treatments to remove her pubic hair, and pills to suppress her periods, Alice's body is becoming too mature d she knows Ray will kill her soon. After opening with chapters that intriguingly utilize first-, second-, and third-person points of view, the narrative settles into first-person with a matter-of-fact tone that magnifies the horror. The description of the violence and sexual abuse, though vivid, is not explicit, but Alice's hopeless acceptance at times makes the book almost too painful to read. Skillfully crafted vignettes, particularly some disturbing scenes depicting Alice's sexual interactions with a teen boy, allow readers to draw their own conclusions about the impact of long-term abuse. Events leading to the conclusion are too convenient, but the ending itself will leave readers gasping. "You can get used to anything," Alice says, though some readers will not be able to get used to the sheer emotional power of this raw voice.
Starred Review for Publishers WeeklyFans of Scott's YA romances <EMPHASIS TYPE=""ITALIC"">Perfect You or <EMPHASIS TYPE=""ITALIC"">Bloom may be unprepared for the unrelieved terror within this chilling novel, about a 15-year-old girl who has spent the last five years being abused by a kidnapper named Ray and is kept powerless by Ray's promise to harm her family if she makes one false move. The narrator knows she is the second of the girls Ray has abducted and renamed Alice; Ray killed the first when she outgrew her childlike body at 15, and now Alice half-hopes her own demise is approaching (“I think of the knife in the kitchen, of the bridges I've seen from the bus... but the thing about hearts is that they always want to keep beating”). Ray, however, has an even more sinister plan: he orders Alice to find a new girl, then train her to Ray's tastes. Scott's prose is spare and damning, relying on suggestive details and their impact on Alice to convey the unimaginable violence she repeatedly experiences. Disturbing but fascinating, the book exerts an inescapable grip on readers—like Alice, they have virtually no choice but to continue until the conclusion sets them free. Ages 16–up. <EMPHASIS TYPE=""ITALIC"">(Sept.)
Horn BookKidnapped and raped when she was ten years old, Alice, now fifteen and still held captive, is forced to lure a child to be her successor. Alice's flat, curt voice reflects her emptiness and despair. Lurid details of abuse are suggested obliquely in a horrifyingly matter-of-fact style. Scott's novel is repellent in exact proportion to the brilliance of its execution.
Kirkus ReviewsScott, best known for such chick-lit pleasers as Bloom (2008), breaks the mold with this harrowing tale of abuse leavened only by lyric writing a la Adam Rapp ( 33 Snowfish , 2003, etc.). When Alice was ten, Ray kidnapped her; five years later, Alice wishes only to escape by dying, as the last Alice did. But her freedom comes at a price—a new girl for Ray. Bit by bit, Alice reveals the depths of psychological and physical terror that hold her captive. Her voice is convincingly naive yet prematurely aged; vivid but never graphic, details of the sexual abuse perfectly capture the way in which she has normalized her situation while still recognizing the truth. Ray is a complex abuser, perhaps a bit too psychotic but terrifying nevertheless; he himself was abused, and the logic of how his own past has shaped his present and his treatment of Alice never falters. Choosing Ray's next victim does not provide a re-entry into empathy, a bold but believable choice. Scott provides neither easy answers nor a happy resolution, although the ending provides a grim sense of release. (Fiction. 16 & up)
School Library JournalGr 9 Up-The numb voice of a teen who has been devastated by five years of captivity and compliance, a girl who has been named "Alice" by her abductor, relates her grim story. At 15, she still believes the threat by which Ray controlled her when she was almost 10 and he walked her away from a school field trip: he's made it clear that if she bolts he will kill her family. The trauma of multiple rapes on a child is portrayed, as is Ray's ongoing need to control her and his daily, multiple demands for sexual submission. Now that she's a teen, Alice is being starved; his disordered logic tells him that this will keep her a little girl. His control over her is so absolute that, although she can leave his apartment during the day and goes on her own to have a wax job, her only rebellion is to steal small amounts of food. When Ray decides it is time for a new little girl, Alice complies by locating a likely next victim. In the process she meets a needy teen boy and a police officer, both of whom suspect she is in trouble and want to help her, but all does not end happily. This story lacks the vivid characters and psychological insights of Norma Fox Mazer's chilling The Missing Girl (HarperCollins, 2008). For an ultimately hopeful, but still realistic portrayal of a damaged survivor of abduction and sexual imprisonment, see Catherine Atkins's When Jeff Comes Home (Putnam, 1999) Carolyn Lehman, Humboldt State University, Arcata, CA
Starred Review ALA Booklist
Starred Review Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books
Starred Review for Publishers Weekly
ALA/YALSA Best Book For Young Adults
Horn Book
ILA Young Adults' Award
Kirkus Reviews
ALA/YALSA Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers
School Library Journal
Voice of Youth Advocates
Wilson's High School Catalog
This is how things look:
Shady Pines Apartments, four shabby buildings tucked off the road near the highway. Across from a strip mall with nail places and a cash-loan store that advertises on TV all the time. There's also a drugstore and tiny restaurants, every one opening and closing within months.
Shady Pines is nice enough, if it's all you can afford. The stairs are chipped but solid, the washing machines always work, and management picks up the trash once a week.
A few mothers sit outside their buildings, resting in fraying lawn chairs and talking over each other while their children run around, playing. One dog lies sleeping in the sun, twitching its tail when a child comes over and pats the top of its head before running away, giggling.
That man in the far building, the car guy, is outside, a pile of parts scattered on the black ooze of the parking lot around him. Car guy has been here since you moved in, but you never see him except for sunny weekends, when he works on his car.
Not that he ever drives it.
He's a strange one, that's for sure, living alone, always with that car, not really ever talking to anyone, but every place has one weirdo, and at least car guy cleans up after himself. He's almost obsessive about it.
Still, see how he sighs when that man, the one whose daughter is quiet and, sadly, a little slow, pulls into the space next to his? See how he watches the girl get out of the car? She's a skinny little thing, always hunching over a bit, like she's taller than she thinks she is. Homeschooled, of course, because of how she is, or so someone once told you when you were getting the mail, and there are no secrets around here, not with everyone living so close together.
She walks slowly across the lot, trailing behind her father, who waits patiently for her to get to the building door, holding it open even though he's carrying all the bags. She doesn't even say thank you, but what can you expect? Kids never know how good they have it.
Copyright © 2008 by Elizabeth Spencer
2
This is how things are:
Cold, from the grocery store, from the dairy aisle you walked down to pick up the yogurt, from the frozen-food aisle, its cases filled deep with frozen pizzas and ice cream in large round containers.
Cold, getting out of the truck, foot clinking over something metallic, piece of a car lying on the ground.
Don't stop to look.
Walk up the stairs, Ray's footsteps behind you. Listen to him pause, smiling at the one open apartment door, the Indian family on the second floor, always children running in and out, sometimes their TV turned up so loud at night Ray has to go down there and knock on the door, say please turn it down? Thank you so much.
"Was that guy in the parking lot looking at you?" Ray says when you walk into the apartment, as soon as the door thunks closed and he's turned the locks, one, two, three. Better safe than sorry, he always says.
Shake your head no, no. Even if he did look, it would never be at you.
No one ever really looks at you.
Ray puts the groceries away, yogurt in the fridge, his oatmeal in its individual packets in the cabinet above the sink. Five apples, one for each day when he comes home from work. Five TV dinners you'll heat up at night for him to eat unless he brings something home.
He comes over to the sofa. Holds out a glass of water so cold the sides are frosty, ice cubes clinking inside. You've pulled your skirt up to your waist, arms resting by your sides, palms up and open. Waiting.
"Good," he says, and lies on top of you. Heavy and pushing, always pushing. "Good girl, Alice."
Afterward, he will give you the water and a container of yogurt. He will sit with one hand curled around your knee. You will watch TV together. He will tell you how lucky you are.
"Yes," you will say. "I know I am."
Copyright © 2008 by Elizabeth Spencer
3
Once upon a time, I did not live in Shady Pines.
Once upon a time, my name was not Alice.
Once upon a time, I didn't know how lucky I was.
Copyright © 2008 by Elizabeth Spencer
Excerpted from Living Dead Girl by Elizabeth Scott
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.
Once upon a time, I was a little girl who disappeared.
Once upon a time, my name was not Alice.
Once upon a time, I didn't know how lucky I was.
When Alice was ten, Ray took her away from her family, her friends -- her life. She learned to give up all power, to endure all pain. She waited for the nightmare to be over.
Now Alice is fifteen and Ray still has her, but he speaks more and more of her death. He does not know it is what she longs for. She does not know he has something more terrifying than death in mind for her.
This is Alice's story. It is one you have never heard, and one you will never, ever forget.