Bruiser -- Neal Shusterman
In eighth grade, Brewster "Bruiser" Rawlins was voted Most Likely to Get the Death Penalty. Now sixteen, he's considered by most to be, at best, the personification of a dim hulking loner, and at worst, a future (if not current) criminal. After a surprising conversation in the school library, his classmate Brontë -- smart, popular, athletic -- takes an interest in him. Her twin brother, Tennyson -- also smart, popular and athletic -- is dead-set against the relationship, and sets out to sabotage it.
The twins quickly realize that Brewster Rawlins has very good reasons for being so withdrawn, but by the time the realize how serious -- and seriously weird -- the situation is, they're in way too deep to walk away. He has a gift -- he is a gift -- but it's slowly killing him.
Bruiser deals with misconceptions and assumptions, the connections we form with other people and the dangers inherent in that, sacrifice, guilt, and the power of addiction.
The story is told in alternating voices, mostly Tennyson's:
I immediately imagine punching out anyone who might call me a bully, and then realize that my own thoughts are proving Brontë's point, which just makes me want to punch someone even more. This is what we call a vicious cycle, and I don't feel all that good about it. I never thought of myself as a bully, and although this isn't the first such accusation, it's the first one that breaks through my defenses and hits home. Suddenly I realize that maybe, in some people's eyes, I am. This is what we call a revelation. Revelations are never convenient, and always annoying.
and Brontë's:
My brother's an idiot.
Sure, Tennyson's smart, but he's an idiot in all the other ways that matter. Such as when he forced his way into our miniature golf game and intimidated Brewster just because we went out on a date. It wasn't even an evening date; it was a middle-of-the-afternoon date, which as anyone can tell you, is barely a date at all. The problem with Tennyson is that he has to be in control of everything. It's like he's worried the whole world will fall apart if he's not holding it together. He thinks no one can survive without the protection of his iron fist, least of all me.
But, occasionally, we hear from Brewster himself, as well as his younger brother Cody. Tennyson and Brontë's voices are distinct, yet similar -- they sound, fittingly, like close siblings -- while Brewster's voice is modeled after the angry poetry that he's drawn to and Cody's is just matter-of-fact. Even though there's a fantastic element, the style and storyline will definitely make it a book that'll appeal to readers who usually prefer contemporary realistic over paranormal/fantasy fiction.
I was immediately so drawn in by the voices, the story and the characters that I ended up reading it in one sitting. Neal Shusterman did an especially great job of showing how mixed-up and complicated the motivations behind our actions can be, and every time he introduced a situation that looked simple or stereotypical on the surface, it ended up being much more complex underneath. The scenes that showed the cracks and eventual breakdown of Brontë and Tennyson's parents' marriage were especially well-done -- hilarious, at first, but then, when Brewster gets involved, horrible and stifling and painful.
While it didn't feel as fully realized as Unwind -- and while there was a situation towards the end that was contrived in a Very Special Episode way, and while I think the book would have been MUCH better off without the last two paragraphs -- Bruiser was a hugely entertaining, breathless read that I'll be recommending to a whole pile of patrons.
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Previously:
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Book source: Borrowed from the library.