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422 pages, Hardcover
First published April 15, 2014
Just sex. Am I never going to be anything more than somebody’s strategy, a destination marked off on a road map and then passed through for someplace better?This book came as a surprise. I expected a light summer read, and I got a whole lot more than that. This is not a fluffy book. It's quite a bit darker and more serious than my anticipated YA Contemporary brain candy (because sometimes I just don't want to think). I have to admit it was rough going at times, because this book did frustrate me somewhat with its slow pacing.
Heaven by the water.Guinevere (Gwen) Castle spends her summer slinging burgers for the rich locals and the tourists at the family restaurant. They are locals of Seashell Island, and they are far from rich. It's a tough life for the locals, there's almost no work outside of beach season, and there's a lot of resentment between the year-round inhabitants of Seashell and the rich tourists who "summer" there as a verb. There is no future for Gwen if she stays in Seashell, short of cleaning houses for the rich locals like her overworked mom.
Best-kept little secret in New England.
Tiny hidden jewel cradled by the rocky Connecticut coast.
Seashell Island, where I’ve lived all my life, is called all those things and more.
And all I want to do is leave it behind.
In another year, I’ll graduate. I can go someplace else. I can leave those boys—this whole past year—far behind in the rearview mirror.It's the last summer before senior year, a year that'll make or break her chances of leaving the only life she's ever known. There's going to be changes, for one, Gwen's not going to be working at the family burger stand, she'll be "companion" to Mrs. Ellington, an elderly lady who's sweet, charming, with a penchant for dirty romance novels (I have a feeling that'll be me in 50 years).
“‘Then he took her, as a man can only take a woman he yearns for, pines for, throbs to possess,’” I read softly.And then there's "José," the yard boy...or as she better knows him...Cassidy Somers, her Kryptonite.
“Speak up, dear girl. I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”
Oh God. I’m nearly shouting the words now.
The yard boy is everywhere on island, all summer long. Cass will haunt my summer the way he preoccupied my spring.The "yard boy" isn't exactly a yard boy, he's a rich local, working at a summer job at his father's behest. Cassidy is someone Gwen knows, rather intimately, in every sense of the word. Gwen and Cass have a past; their current relationship is fraught with shame, distrust, and misunderstanding. This summer will force them together; they will have to confront what happened between them last spring, no matter how reluctant Gwen is to discuss it.
He jams his hands into the pockets of his suit, turns away from me. “Fine, Gwen. Gotcha. And you’ve got me figured out. Clue me in on this, then. Why do I bother with you? Why not just ram my head against a brick wall? It would be easier and less painful. Why are you so freaking—burned, that, that nothing I do counts! How come it’s so clear to you when some made-up fictional characters are massively stupid and you can’t see it at all when it’s you and me?”It would be so easy if Cass and Gwen could have their Happily-Ever-After and leave it at that, but this is not just the story of a boy and a girl. There are family concerns, money is always an issue...and how to get more is always a question lurking in the back. It's always a battle between the Haves and the Have-Nots, here on Seashell Island.
“Just think about it, Guinevere, smart advice from your old man.” Dad takes the pole from me, securing the hook. “Embroider it on a pillow. Spray-paint it on your wall. Just never forget it: Don’t be a sucker. Screw them before they screw you.”There is an beloved younger brother, not quite autistic, but not quite right either. One missed moment, and he will disappear to god knows where. There are questions about ethics, how far will you go to get money, how much can a person overlook? There is the story of a cousin and a best friend, meant to be, or are they? One final summer that will change them all.
What you’ve always had doesn’t mean that’s what you’ll always get. What you’ve always wanted isn’t what you’ll always want.The Setting:
Maple trees arch and curl their branches over me, making the path a tunnel. The air smells earthy and tangy green. These woods have been the same for hundreds of years.I've always been drawn to the Eastern seaboard setting, and this book gave me a much-needed fix of that small-town beachside atmosphere. The place is well-described, there's no question about that, but what makes the town feel alive is how well-drawn the tension feels between the wealthy residents and the local townies who work for them.
We get woods at our back and can only squint at the ocean; they get the full view of the sea—sand tumbling all the way out to the water—from their front windows, and big rambling green lawns in back. In the winter it’s like we year-rounders own the island, but every spring we have to give it back.There is a huge socioeconomic gap between the wealthy and the poor on the island, and it's pretty obvious. The wealthy are sometimes condescending, not always, to the servicepeople running the island, providing the services for them. Most of the island's income comes from tourist season, but the rest of the year the locals (like Gwen's parents) have to pick up odd jobs to pay the bills. There is minor racial tension, played out into humor, like the lady who calls all her workers Josés and Marias, no matter if they're white or Mexican. Not all the wealthy are assholes, not all the poor are nice. There is a realistic portrayal of the island's inhabitants.
The realization is quick, sharp, and shattering like that bag striking the wall.A wholly sympathetic heroine. Hard-working, a good daughter, and a loving sister to her special-needs brother. Gwen is not perfect, she's got that type of reputation. She is not promiscuous, but she's made some regrettable mistakes in her life. I like the fact that while Gwen is ashamed of what she's done, she never slut shames herself, and she never slut shames others. We've all done things (and people) we have regretted later on, and I can definitely sympathize with Gwen.
I’m not the only one who can get hurt here.
Who was hurt here.
He was right. I should come with a YouTube instructional video. Or a complete boxed set. How the hell can I expect him to figure me out when I don’t even get myself? And worse, I’m a total hypocrite.2. Cass:
"I can’t claim to know you”—he pauses, has the grace to turn red, then forges on—“but I know you don’t put up with crap. That made me sick.”A complete gentleman...even if Gwen doesn't think so. The misunderstanding between Gwen and Cass overshadow the book; we know that Gwen both likes him/lusts after him while resenting him, but the reader never got a sense that Cass is anything but a great guy. He is wonderful with her brother, he gets upset, but only when Gwen drives him (and me) to the limits with her lack of communication, he puts up with Gwen's occasional BS, and he's not at all an asshole, despite being a privileged, wealthy townie. He's not afraid of hard work, he never feels like a girl in disguise, and I really, really loved Cass. He never criticizes Gwen for having a past, he never judges her for it. He's a patient guy, he's willing to wait, and we all need a Cass in our lives.
“It’s not about a jumbo box of condoms,” I say.Final comments: The pacing is slow, it really is. I feel like the book could be cut down by 100 pages without losing much relevance, because much of the book is about Cass and Gwen working together over the summer and getting reacquainted. While that's great, I could use less of that because I lost patience at some points. There are also a few small side plots, that of Mrs. Ellington and Gwen's cousin and best friend who have been together forever, Viv and Nic.
“Never was,” Cass says simply.
He slants his hand against my jaw, tips his mouth to mine.
Heaven by the water.
Best kept little secret in New England.
Tiny hidden jewel cradled by the rocky Connecticut coast.
Seashell Island, where I've lived all my life, is called all those things and more.
And all I want to do is leave it behind.
Screw them before they screw you.
Deixe que as histórias de outras pessoas sejam contadas por elas.
Other people's stories are their own to tell.
Cass lifts the bottom of his t-shirt, squeezing water out of the hem, then pulls it entirely off. Sort of like detonating a weapon in the tiny, warm, confined space.
I roll over trying to find a cool spot in my bed.
I'm itchy and jangly, so tired of watching the numbers on the clock shift.
“And this is the hardest, weirdest part of not being that barefoot girl and that towheaded boy running down the sand to the water, all legs and elbows and unself-conscious. Suddenly, you edge your way to the end of your second ten years and BOOM. Your choices matter. Not chocolate or vanilla, bridge or pier, Sandy Claw or Abenaki. It’s your whole life. We’re suddenly this close, like Nic said, to the wrong move. Or the right one. It matters now.” (Page 236)
Suddenly, you edge your way to the end of your second ten years and BOOM. Your choices matter. Not chocolate or vanilla, bridge or pier, Sandy Claw or Abenaki. It's your whole life. We're suddenly this close, like Nic said, to the wrong move. Or the right one. It matters now.
"The yard boy is everyone on the island, all summer long. Cass will haunt my summer the way he preoccupied my spring."
He's also quiet and I can't see his face and that makes me even more nervous, so I that thing I do and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "Where you wearing anything under there?"
_______________________________
Next thing you know I'll be sliding down the wall of our shower, sobbing and singing depressing pop songs into my shampoo bottle.
But I keep watching him, noticing the small confines of the sailboat and the strange stillness of this moment, things that I hadn't seen before. A tiny white scar that cuts through the left corner of his dark left eyebrow. Faint flecks of green in the deep blue of his eyes. The light pulse beating at the base of his throat. I don't know how long it is that we just look. When I finally turn away, everything on the water seems just the same. Except my sense that something has shifted.