I've been reading Speak.
Kristin Stewart was in the film based on the book. I enjoyed the film, she did a good job, but it's not quite the same as reading the book. There's something in the way Anderson wrote it which is brilliant. It's brilliant because she wrote it in...detached first person.
That's the only thing I can call it, and the only thing I can maybe compare it to is "November, December, January, February" in New Moon. The way she wrote about how hard that period of time was, the sense of detachment from life around her. It's that same feeling.
It's very hard for me to read. Because if you know the story of Speak, it is a novel about a girl who is raped at a party, and about how it plunges her into a well of uncommunicative internalized grief. Its something I relate to too strongly.
It makes me wonder if its possible for a traumatic event in your youth can entirely freeze your development. Maybe I'm so immature because once I was damaged, perhaps my emotional growth was retarded. Maybe too large a part of me is still a little molested girl? I don't know.
I've also been re-evaluating that time in my life, because I have always remembered it as being when I was 7. But I recently realized I wasn't. Because my grades went to hell after it happened, and I was held back a year.
That was in 4th grade, we moved to Redondo Beach, and I went through 4th again, because I just couldn't get it right the first time. I
wasn't right the first time.
So that would have been when I was around 9...and then I remember moving here when I was 10, but according to the year we moved, I should have been 11. I only know that senior year most of the kids in my class were 17, but I was 18 and well on my way to 19 by the time I graduated High School.
So Speak is very hard to read. Her grades drop, she begins to pay attention to everything everyone else does, and is hyper aware of her own actions, but looks past them in the hopes of not seeing what she's really doing, which is alienating everyone who has made her feel like the outcast (after she's raped, she calls the cops on the party..everyone considers her a snitch...all she really is, is a victim. The injustice of that is very wicked.)
I seem to have lost a year or two somewhere in there. The numbers just don't add up. I wonder what age I really am?