That's Not What Happened by Kody Keplinger, 2018

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It's been three years since the Virgil County High School Massacre. Three years since my best friend, Sarah, was killed in a bathroom stall during the mass shooting. Everyone knows Sarah's story--that she died proclaiming her faith.

But it's not true.

I know because I was with her when she died. I didn't say anything then, and people got hurt because of it. Now Sarah's parents are publishing a book about her, so this might be my last chance to set the record straight . . . but I'm not the only survivor with a story to tell about what did--and didn't--happen that day.

Except Sarah's martyrdom is important to a lot of people, people who don't take kindly to what I'm trying to do. And the more I learn, the less certain I am about what's right. I don't know what will be worse: the guilt of staying silent or the consequences of speaking up . . .

(329 pages)

When this book first showed up on my doorstep, I was hesitant to crack it open.

I myself have not survived a shooting, but I lived in Baltimore for five years and I know people, or people who know people, who have been on the scene of school shootings, mall shootings, club shootings, and even the Boston marathon bombing. I don't see this sort of horrific ordeal as something that should be fictionalized and turned into entertainment, whether it's trying to make some sort of point or not. There are enough real stories out there about real victims and real survivors that it didn't seem like this book served any purpose except to drain emphasis away from those stories.

After reading it, I do appreciate its significance. Keplinger can explore the nuances of truth in the aftermath of a tragedy, and the distortions that reality can be put through in order for people to find a "meaningful story" buried in the horror, without hacking at the legacy of a real victim or forcing survivors to reopen old wounds or even defend their testimonies to a hord of truth-seeking readers.

By making up her own tragedy, and "knowing" what really happened, Keplinger can focus on her characters and on showing how the truth becomes distorted in the aftermath of a horrible event. It's a fascinating idea because, really, there are no bad guys in this book–the real bad guy, the murderer, is gone. His name is not even in the book because it is not about him. Instead we see that even the people who have twisted the truth the most did not do it maliciously. The truth was distorted in their minds because they latched on to a story they thought was true, that they needed to be true, and they refused to let it go.

This is a powerful and moving book, but it does get bogged down sometimes by some of the things Keplinger chooses to include. There's a fairly lengthy plotline about a survivor whose cousin was killed which I think got a bit too much time. I have to include a content warning because there are a couple characters who are lesbian or asexual, and also possibly some foul language (I'm afraid my copy is back home and I can't double check). Plus obviously a trigger warning: it gets fairly detailed during the flashbacks to the shooting, so don't read the book if that's going to be too hard for you.

It's a rough read, but if you don't mind the content then I think it's a pretty good one. I wasn't really satisfied with the ending, but with this sort of book that's sort of the point. There is no happy ending tied up in a bow after something so horrific has happened.

How do you feel about books that deal with such painful topics? I'm still on the fence about them, even though I appreciated this one.

Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

A Blind Guide to Normal by Beth Vrabel, 2016

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Richie “Ryder” Raymond has a gift. He can find the punchline in any situation, even in his limited vision and prosthetic eye. During the past year at Addison School for the Blind, Ryder’s quick wit earned the respect and friendship of his classmates. Heading to mainstream, or “normal,” school for eighth grade is going to be awesome.

After all, what’s not to like? At Addison, Ryder was everyone’s favorite person. He could make anyone laugh, especially his best friend Alice. So long as he can be first to make all of the one-eyed jokes, Ryder is sure he’ll fit in just as quick at Papuaville Middle School, home of the Fighting Guinea Pigs. But Alice warns him fitting in might not be as easy as he thinks.

Turns out, Alice was right. In just the first hour of “normal” school, Ryder is attacked by General MacCathur II (aka, Gramps’s cat), causes his bio teacher to pass out cold, makes an enemy out town hero Max, and falls for Jocelyn, the fierce girl next door who happens to be Max’s girlfriend. On top of that, Ryder struggles to hold onto his dignity in the face of students’ pity and Gramps’s non-stop practical jokes.

Ryder quickly sees the only thing worse than explaining a joke is being the punchline. But with help from his stuck-in-the-70s Gramps and encouragement from Alice, Ryder finds the strength to not only fight back, but to make peace.

This exciting sequel to A Blind Guide to Stinkville weaves humor, recovery and second chances into an unforgettable story, with characters who will hook you from page one.
(272 pages)

I always meant to read A Blind Guide to Stinkville. I even went so far as to check it out from the library one time about a year ago, but then life happened and I had to turn it back in before I got around to reading it. When I got an email from Sky Pony Press asking whether I'd like to review its sequel/companion, A Blind Guide to Normal, I figured this was my chance to read a book at least connected to Stinkville. I went in with very high hopes.

Coming out of the book I'm a little less enthusiastic. I liked it, sure, but I just didn't really connect with the characters the way everyone else seemed to with Stinkville. I could see and understand the pain Ryder buried deep inside his chest, the way he shoved aside his fear and anger and insecurity and masked it with corny jokes. I saw that, but I still didn't really like him. Ryder treats his grandfather like a laughingstock throughout most of the book, even though the old man is still mourning the death of his wife; he makes new friends in school but treats them absolutely horribly; he does some very insensitive things, then never really apologizes for them. To be honest, I feel bad for Ryder–I really do. But I feel even worse for Jocelyn and Max and Gramps.

And really, Jocelyn and Max and Gramps are the main reason I liked Normal. Jocelyn was probably my favorite character, just because I loved the glimpses we got of her past and how she fought to move forward. Max is, basically, an ideal boyfriend. I loved him throughout the book, even when he was going head-to-head with Ryder. And Gramps? Gramps is just straight-up awesome. When he tells the story of his past, it's so touching to see how much in love he still is with his wife–even though she's been gone for around thirty years. Ryder was too busy being embarrased by his grandfather's old-fashioned sense of style to realize how sweet and cool the old man really was.

Do I recommend A Blind Guide to Normal? Meh. I suppose if you want to read it I'm not going to warn you off it, it really is funny in some parts and meaningful in others. Just go in knowing that Ryder isn't the nicest person in the world, and that there is way too much romantic angst in this book about a bunch of thirteen-year-olds. If you do/have read it, definitely let me know what you think! In the meantime, I think I'm going to send my copy off to my local Little Free Library.

Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.