"A Powerful and fascinating foray into the future of science and its unforeseen consequences"
"Lieberman makes a timely and significant contribution to the world of literary criticism"
A novella about a boy named Mick, and his struggles with life. His parent’s divorce and a friend’s suicide, make his world unbearable. Each “cut” has a deeper meaning. A cry for help.
“I spin my dad’s Ruger SP101 revolver on the wood floor of my bedroom. Sometimes, just to see what it feels like, I place the tip of the gun against my temple, but I never once pull the trigger. NO!”
“I’m more into the slice of the blade against my skin and the blood running down my arm.”
“It relieves so much pressure.”
“And I can breathe again”
Incredibly powerful, instantly compelling and often heart-breaking, Zadunajsky hasn’t picked an easy subject on which to write but her willingness to steer away from a prescriptive approach means she reaches her readers on an emotional level. As with her novella Talk To Me she demonstrates an enviable ability to project the mental anguish of her characters, making them feel overwhelming real. The result is a read that not only entertains but is insightful and encourages much in the way of reflection whilst leaving us with a degree of empathy and understanding we might not have otherwise embraced. Through teen speak and acerbic observation Zadunajsky captures a pivotal period in Mick’s life and then mirrors it with an alternative perspective from Layla which further reinforces the often unscripted progression of choices, confrontations and events in a teenagers life that leads to self-harm. Needless to say, her prose is typically on point and dialogue is authentically nuanced as Mick finds his voice and confronts the trauma that has triggered his behaviour.
An unforgettable and powerfully poignant read, Help Me
is recommended without reservation.
Growing up as a lonely kid in the Frozen North had one thing going for it, libraries! I was a frequent visitor in every library in every place we moved to. I spent a lot of summers at my grandparents. They had an old house, with an attic and I built my own little hiding place under the eves. I found lots of old books and magazines, and spent hours reading them while listening to the rain. Many of the books in the attic were missing covers or pages, didn’t matter, I read them all, and created my own worlds.
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