On books... I Was Here

I Was Here by Gayle Forman

One of the pleasant problems of working in the publishing industry is that it is not uncommon to be faced with a saturation of quality literature when a new trend arises.  I have found this to be particularly so for YA – in recent years, I’ve been fortunate enough to read some absolutely top-notch paranormal fiction, dystopian fiction, and now, the ubiquitous “real-lit”.  The problem that I find in this is that once I’ve read three of four books in a rising genre, I have a tendency to become bored and even jaded.  This is natural; after all, a trend is necessarily impermanent, and the great strength of literature lies in its diversity.  However, it does leave me worried that some superbly talented authors may miss out on the recognition and success that they deserve, simply because their work appears too late into a trend that is already waning.

Months ago, when I first read the manuscript for I Was Here, I was absolutely stunned.  In the time between then and now, I read a number of other real-lit YA books, including The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Noggin, Will Grayson Will Grayson, and of course, The Fault in Our Stars.  Now that I’m preparing, finally, to sell I Was Here into February 2015, I found myself fretting that perhaps the book was overstated in my remembered estimation; maybe it was merely the first outstanding book I’d read in a genre that has become incredibly popular and introduced some phenomenal books to the reading public.  Quite apart from this, I was also concerned that I’d forgotten bits and pieces of the book – I remember the main plot, and I remember how it made me feel, but I couldn’t recall the names of the characters, and I worried that I may have inadvertently mixed up parts of the story with other real-lit books (another hazard of literary trends).  So yesterday afternoon, while the rain drummed quietly outside, I sat down on the couch to re-read it.

In a bizarre simultaneity, the experience of reading the book felt both familiar and new.  Before I was two chapters in, I remembered why I adored the main character, why I felt pain when she did, why I begged her to hold on and rejoiced when she did.  And yet, the experience was also fresh, even in a reading climate soaked with real-lit – with good real-lit.

The story follows Cody, a teenage girl a couple of years out of high school.  Her best friend, Meg, had moved away for college the previous year, the friendship had cooled, and then, shockingly and seemingly out of the blue, Meg committed suicide.  Cody is devastated, bewildered, and furious both with Meg and herself – how could she be Meg’s best friend and not know that something was wrong?  Cody offers to help Meg’s distraught parents by travelling to Meg’s college share-house and collecting her belongings, but what she discovers there leads her to believe that Meg may have been talked or coerced into suicide.  She embarks on an investigation, bordering on obsessive vendetta, that turns into something utterly unexpected both for Cody and for the reader.

From the first sentence, Gayle Forman’s incredible writing talent is undeniable.  Every character in the book is so real, so perfectly imperfect, that I am half-convinced that the events in the book must somewhere have actually happened.  The dialogue, the settings, the language, are all faultless.  The plot moves both subtly and deceptively, twisting sharply at times, but softly enough to draw the compelled reader along.

The force of this book hit me like a juggernaut.  It is beautiful, heartbreaking, uplifting, enduring, and for me, profoundly close.  As someone who suffers from mental illness, and has a beloved friend affected by depression, I am in the unusual position of being able to strongly identify with both Meg and Cody – evoking remembered feelings of both desperation and terror.  It cut to the core, and yet even as I was shedding tears at the end of the book (for the second time), it made me feel hopeful – supremely, warmly, hopeful.  Yes, Meg took her own life, which is utterly and unmistakably tragic, but in the climactic scene when Cody chooses life, hope resonates and illuminates fiercely.

I don’t believe this book is only for readers who know depression.  This book is for anyone who has ever loved, who has ever been worried about a friend, who has ever had even a single moment without hope.  This book should be read by everyone – it will convince you that even in the darkest night, hope is an enduring flame that never needs to be – and never should be – extinguished.  This book is immense.

There are many parents who worry about their teens reading books dealing with depression and suicide, and I believe this concern is completely reasonable.  But the first thing I did after finishing I Was Here was to call my best friend.  We made a pact right there – no matter how great the darkness, no matter how deep the chasm, and no matter if it seems like the end is inevitable, we will always, always, call for help.

I Was Here is a book that will change lives.  It changed mine.


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This book will be available from February 1st, 2015 - please support the Australian book industry and buy at your local bookstore, or if you would like to buy online, please consider an Australian online store such as Booktopia or Dymocks.


with love from the lit dancer


artemis