Ramblings of a Crowe

White Oleander

So I just finished reading the book, "White Oleander" by Janet Fitch. It took me a day and a half to read the entire thing. Wordy and elaborate prose usually isn't my cup of tea, but this story spoke to me on many levels and I found myself whisked away along Astrid's journey to adulthood.

I was amazed at how vivid Astrid's story was written, every little detail was posed perfectly. The people were so real: the trailer trash Jerry Springer former alcoholic born again Christian, the overweight Mary Kay maniac, the nerdy little boy who collected fossils and made poster of animal scat and paw prints, the hard nosed and unfeeling case worker, the sociopath dictator from Argentina, the girls full of 'hate for whitey' and 'ethnic pride'. The list goes on and on. Every character had a spark of life, something we could all identify with on some level or another.

Ingrid, Astrid's psychopathic poet mother breathed life into the story. Never have I read a character so sinister and evil. Her words, always poison, always deadly. But also so sad. A deluded, confused woman, always spinning events into an alter-reality in her own head. Even from her prison cell, she hunted, haunted, taunted her daughter.

And Astrid, telling her story through her childhood eyes. How she worshiped her beautiful and dangerous mother, watching her every move, believing the lies and half truths of a murderous poet. Then her mother killed a man and the foster care began. Alone, no family, no friends, Astrid began her own journey through life.

Foster care wasn't kind to Astrid. It was in the houses of people fit not even to keep their own children that she learned not to fight the world as her mother did, but instead, survive in it. Often by any means necessary. Lost in a failed system that was supposed to protect her, a gentle, quiet girl became hard, cold, and calculating.

But somehow Astrid kept her curiosity and her longing for a place to belong, someone to just tell her she mattered. That was enough to keep a spark of compassion alive. Not about to lose her humanity--or worse, become like her mother--she struggled to understand the people who hurt her and those who at least tried to give a damn about her.

Wounded and jaded, mistrustful and angry, she managed to survive the system and her mother. But the future is uncertain, life is uncertain. Not sure where or what she is going to do, she tries to be content with what was and what would never be.

Posted by Zoso at July 30, 2006 01:47 PM