Book Review: The Lovely Bones

This weekend, I finally finished the bestselling novel The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. I say 'finally' not because I put off reading it, but because, amidst the craziness of the final months of my senior year, it's been so difficult to find the time to sit down and read. I'm so thankful that I did, though; The Lovely Bones was certainly worth the wait.

When it comes to books made into movies, the conventional order is to read the book first, then watch the movie, right? Well, in the case of The Lovely Bones, I saw the movie about a year before I read the book, so I was initially skeptical as to whether I'd enjoy the novel after being so familiar with the plot and characters. Thank goodness I didn't let this concern prevent me from experiencing Sebold's literary masterpiece. If you haven't read it yet, run to the nearest bookstore! Trust me; it's worth it.

The most beautiful aspect of Sebold's novel is its ability to deliver a story of death and suffering in a hopeful, even humorous manner. A book about a young girl's rape and subsequent death sounds like the opposite of uplifting, but somehow, Sebold manages to mix vitality with loss, laughter with anguish, so that the reader is ultimately left profoundly affected but far from depressed.

Another notable success of The Lovely Bones is the way it gracefully weaves numerous threads into one narrative, as Sebold strings together the stories of multiple characters' responses to young Susie Salmon's tragic disappearance and death. In addition to these varied perspectives, Sebold gives Susie a voice throughout the novel, as Susie narrates the story from her place in heaven. Witnessing Susie's reactions to her loved ones' struggles to cope with her death is deeply moving, another element that exemplifies Sebold's genius.

And, as you may have guessed, Sebold's writing style is another strong point. The way she paints portraits with her words is truly mesmerizing, as this passage reveals:

"I loved the way the burned-out flashcubes of the Kodak Instamatic marked a moment that had massed, one that would now be gone forever except for a picture. When they were spent, I took the cubed four-corner flashbulbs and passed them from hand to hand until they cooled. The broken filaments of the flash would turn a molten marble blue or sometimes smoke the thin glass black. I had rescued the moment by using my camera and in that way had found a way to stop time and hold it. No one could take that image away from me because I owned it."

Not only does that paragraph masterfully convey such powerful themes as time, loss, and control, but it appeals to the reader's senses so that he or she is drawn in, wholly absorbed into Susie's ethereal world. And is that not what we want from our beloved books? To be wholly absorbed?