Hello from Heaven
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
I finished this book on the train on Friday right before arriving at the Neshaminy Falls stop, which is one stop before mine. Also right before my train decided it could go on no longer, and died, right there on the tracks. All I had on me was it and the New Yorker that I had finished during lunch on Thursday, so I got to listen to the people around me grumble, including a woman who claimed that “SEPTA does this on purpose,” something that even I don’t entirely believe. Yes, I believe that they use trains that are ancient and smell and are dirty and then continue to hike up the prices, but, while I am always game for a good conspiracy theory, I don’t really believe that SEPTA has their trains break down on purpose. That would just be silly. Unless they are trying to prove something to the state in order to get the funding they want. Interesting….
But anyway, while I sat in the non-air conditioned train and then later stood outside on the platform waiting for a new train to come along for forty-five minutes (so much for getting out of work two hours early) I got to thinking about The Lovely Bones as my sweat stains grew and grew (for those of you who seem to be under the assumption that girls don’t sweat, I am living proof that they do (and I’m not just counting while at the gym, I’m talking any time), and can do so profusely—even in the dead of winter). I was thinking that I really enjoyed The Lovely Bones but also found it pretty depressing. The entire premise of the book is that a girl, Susie, is raped and murdered and she is narrating the lives of her family and friends from heaven. The first chapter goes through her rape and murder, and I must admit that during this time, even though I knew that it was going to happen, I kept thinking to myself, do not follow him! Do not go in there! I was expressing concern over a character who told me in the first paragraph that she was already dead.
And being dead doesn’t sound too great either. Sebold’s version of heaven sucks, quite frankly, and I can’t imagine anyone thinking it sound better than earth. Susie’s heaven is what she wants it to be, in her case the high school that she never got to attend with some added features, like the gazebo that she sits in while watching her family and friends on earth. She shares a duplex with another girl, although apart from mentioning where she lives, the duplex is never mentioned again. I guess Sebold just wanted to explain that those in heaven do have a “home.” Not entirely sure.
So Susie spends most of her time watching her family and friends on earth: the investigation of her death, her family and friends grieving and eventually trying to get past it. Her guardian in heaven says that she can watch for as long as she wants to but eventually she won’t want to anymore. We get about two seconds of her not wanting to anymore at the end of the book, and that heaven consists of her playing with her grandfather (who is also obviously dead). But the grandfather and other characters that she encounters in heaven don’t always exist in her heaven, they just visit every so often. Does this sound good to anyone else? Sound like eternal happiness and glee and whatever else religion says that heaven is? While I think it would be fun to see what other people are doing whenever you want, I would find it boring after awhile since you can never partake in the events. You are just a spectator. Also, there are parts where she “watches” while her sister and others have sex. I’m not entirely sure if she watched the entire time, but she watched enough to know that it happened, and I find this immensely disturbing.
So is Sebold trying to get at something here? Trying to tell us that the heaven we are told about does not actually exist? I guess I’ll try to come back after I die and let you all know the answer. If there is an afterlife, that is.
Sebold does show how differently people cope with and mourn a death. I wonder how many couples divorce after a child dies, regardless if they have other children. I never really thought of this until this book, but I’m sure the stress takes a toll, especially if there was a rift before the death. At first I thought the mother leaving was overly cold, but now I see that it makes sense for her character. Which leads me to another reason why I don’t want to have kids: you lose your own identity. I would not be Lindsay anymore, I would be so-and-so’s mother. It’s no longer about you, ever, and won’t be for the rest of your life. And after finally figuring out who I am, I rather like myself, and am not, nor will I ever be, ready to just throw it away so I can have some spawn to love me and mold them into little me’s. The mother in the book couldn’t get over not having an identity anymore and look what happened—your relationship with your husband is in pieces and your two children who are left are messed up and have issues as a result of your abandoning them. I realize this is selfish on my part, but I don’t care as long as I recognize that. Perhaps you should think first before bringing people into the world? That’s all I’m asking.
I didn’t realize until halfway through this book that it is set in Norristown, which is in a suburb of Philadelphia. This was exciting, especially since so few books are set around here. However, when writing a book, I think that you should do a little research if you are going to include details such as the name of a county in the area, as Bucks county is not a possessive, nor has it ever been. According to Wikipedia, Bucks is the abbreviation for Buckinghamshire (which I never knew before, but ok!) and that would obviously never be possessive (although it would be possessive if renamed Genius' County, as it is often referred to as the "the genius belt," mostly because I live there.) Since Sebold grew up in the area, I found it strange that she listed it as Buck’s county, but I guess I’ll have to get past it. Also, there is a part of the book where she describes Susie riding trains in and out of Suburban station and she said that she would ride it out to around Overbrook. The Overbrook station is on the R5 Paoli/Thorndale line, and Norristown is on the R6 Norristown line. I found it strange that she mentioned Overbrook since it has nothing to do with the setting. Why not mention Manayunk or Ivy Ridge, which are both stops on the R6 Norristown, the train that Susie would have ridden into the city when she was alive? This bothered me. It also bothered me that while on this train Susie listened to the click click of the high heels of women on the station platform turn soft as they hit the carpeted aisles of the trains. This is especially interesting since as far as I researched (thank you, Wikipedia), SEPTA still uses the same model trains that they did in the 1970s and 1980s, and none of these trains have carpet anywhere on them. They have a rubber-type substance (which, while I’m on the subject, have groove lines in them that run parallel to your foot if you were walking. Would it not make more sense traction-wise to have them run perpendicular to your foot? I’m just saying, SEPTA. Could you use your brains for once?) on the aisles and a linoleum-type substance on the train floor, but no carpet. Unless you can count the train with the disco seat covers which resemble the carpeted walls in the Rainbow Room at Sesame Place (which, sadly, no longer exists). It’s pretty clear that people from the area of where you set your book are going to pick apart details like this, so why not do a little research first? As for the carpet thing, I’m sure that was included as a stylistic element, and I guess Sebold can change minor details for that, but it still irks me.
Up Next: The Best American Non-Required Reading 2002, ed. Dave Eggers. Nerd Alert: I confess: I chose this book so Nick and I could discuss it while he still remembers it.
I finished this book on the train on Friday right before arriving at the Neshaminy Falls stop, which is one stop before mine. Also right before my train decided it could go on no longer, and died, right there on the tracks. All I had on me was it and the New Yorker that I had finished during lunch on Thursday, so I got to listen to the people around me grumble, including a woman who claimed that “SEPTA does this on purpose,” something that even I don’t entirely believe. Yes, I believe that they use trains that are ancient and smell and are dirty and then continue to hike up the prices, but, while I am always game for a good conspiracy theory, I don’t really believe that SEPTA has their trains break down on purpose. That would just be silly. Unless they are trying to prove something to the state in order to get the funding they want. Interesting….
But anyway, while I sat in the non-air conditioned train and then later stood outside on the platform waiting for a new train to come along for forty-five minutes (so much for getting out of work two hours early) I got to thinking about The Lovely Bones as my sweat stains grew and grew (for those of you who seem to be under the assumption that girls don’t sweat, I am living proof that they do (and I’m not just counting while at the gym, I’m talking any time), and can do so profusely—even in the dead of winter). I was thinking that I really enjoyed The Lovely Bones but also found it pretty depressing. The entire premise of the book is that a girl, Susie, is raped and murdered and she is narrating the lives of her family and friends from heaven. The first chapter goes through her rape and murder, and I must admit that during this time, even though I knew that it was going to happen, I kept thinking to myself, do not follow him! Do not go in there! I was expressing concern over a character who told me in the first paragraph that she was already dead.
And being dead doesn’t sound too great either. Sebold’s version of heaven sucks, quite frankly, and I can’t imagine anyone thinking it sound better than earth. Susie’s heaven is what she wants it to be, in her case the high school that she never got to attend with some added features, like the gazebo that she sits in while watching her family and friends on earth. She shares a duplex with another girl, although apart from mentioning where she lives, the duplex is never mentioned again. I guess Sebold just wanted to explain that those in heaven do have a “home.” Not entirely sure.
So Susie spends most of her time watching her family and friends on earth: the investigation of her death, her family and friends grieving and eventually trying to get past it. Her guardian in heaven says that she can watch for as long as she wants to but eventually she won’t want to anymore. We get about two seconds of her not wanting to anymore at the end of the book, and that heaven consists of her playing with her grandfather (who is also obviously dead). But the grandfather and other characters that she encounters in heaven don’t always exist in her heaven, they just visit every so often. Does this sound good to anyone else? Sound like eternal happiness and glee and whatever else religion says that heaven is? While I think it would be fun to see what other people are doing whenever you want, I would find it boring after awhile since you can never partake in the events. You are just a spectator. Also, there are parts where she “watches” while her sister and others have sex. I’m not entirely sure if she watched the entire time, but she watched enough to know that it happened, and I find this immensely disturbing.
So is Sebold trying to get at something here? Trying to tell us that the heaven we are told about does not actually exist? I guess I’ll try to come back after I die and let you all know the answer. If there is an afterlife, that is.
Sebold does show how differently people cope with and mourn a death. I wonder how many couples divorce after a child dies, regardless if they have other children. I never really thought of this until this book, but I’m sure the stress takes a toll, especially if there was a rift before the death. At first I thought the mother leaving was overly cold, but now I see that it makes sense for her character. Which leads me to another reason why I don’t want to have kids: you lose your own identity. I would not be Lindsay anymore, I would be so-and-so’s mother. It’s no longer about you, ever, and won’t be for the rest of your life. And after finally figuring out who I am, I rather like myself, and am not, nor will I ever be, ready to just throw it away so I can have some spawn to love me and mold them into little me’s. The mother in the book couldn’t get over not having an identity anymore and look what happened—your relationship with your husband is in pieces and your two children who are left are messed up and have issues as a result of your abandoning them. I realize this is selfish on my part, but I don’t care as long as I recognize that. Perhaps you should think first before bringing people into the world? That’s all I’m asking.
I didn’t realize until halfway through this book that it is set in Norristown, which is in a suburb of Philadelphia. This was exciting, especially since so few books are set around here. However, when writing a book, I think that you should do a little research if you are going to include details such as the name of a county in the area, as Bucks county is not a possessive, nor has it ever been. According to Wikipedia, Bucks is the abbreviation for Buckinghamshire (which I never knew before, but ok!) and that would obviously never be possessive (although it would be possessive if renamed Genius' County, as it is often referred to as the "the genius belt," mostly because I live there.) Since Sebold grew up in the area, I found it strange that she listed it as Buck’s county, but I guess I’ll have to get past it. Also, there is a part of the book where she describes Susie riding trains in and out of Suburban station and she said that she would ride it out to around Overbrook. The Overbrook station is on the R5 Paoli/Thorndale line, and Norristown is on the R6 Norristown line. I found it strange that she mentioned Overbrook since it has nothing to do with the setting. Why not mention Manayunk or Ivy Ridge, which are both stops on the R6 Norristown, the train that Susie would have ridden into the city when she was alive? This bothered me. It also bothered me that while on this train Susie listened to the click click of the high heels of women on the station platform turn soft as they hit the carpeted aisles of the trains. This is especially interesting since as far as I researched (thank you, Wikipedia), SEPTA still uses the same model trains that they did in the 1970s and 1980s, and none of these trains have carpet anywhere on them. They have a rubber-type substance (which, while I’m on the subject, have groove lines in them that run parallel to your foot if you were walking. Would it not make more sense traction-wise to have them run perpendicular to your foot? I’m just saying, SEPTA. Could you use your brains for once?) on the aisles and a linoleum-type substance on the train floor, but no carpet. Unless you can count the train with the disco seat covers which resemble the carpeted walls in the Rainbow Room at Sesame Place (which, sadly, no longer exists). It’s pretty clear that people from the area of where you set your book are going to pick apart details like this, so why not do a little research first? As for the carpet thing, I’m sure that was included as a stylistic element, and I guess Sebold can change minor details for that, but it still irks me.
Up Next: The Best American Non-Required Reading 2002, ed. Dave Eggers. Nerd Alert: I confess: I chose this book so Nick and I could discuss it while he still remembers it.
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