We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I went on a real journey with this book. I picked it up on recommendation from a friend and after reading the first few chapters, I began asking myself whether or not I should continue reading. It's not that it wasn't interesting; indeed the event around which the book revolves is controversial and, due to our natural tendency to be drawn towards other people's private lives and tragedy, is intriguing, but I believe the fact that it's written in the format of letters to Franklin makes it hard for the author to create suspense. In addition to this, the vocabulary which is diverse is sometimes too obscure making it hard on the reader, even a reader with a good vocabulary.

I took a break from the book, thinking that perhaps if I went back to it in a few weeks with a fresh pair of eyes and a different frame of mind, I might find it easier to read. But after returning to the book, I still found little to grab my attention, to make me gasp in surprise, to make me think, 'Ooh, I certainly wasn't expecting THAT to happen!' By half way through I was almost ready to give up, only spurred on by my own obsessive need not to leave a book half read.

Then about half way through, an event suddenly creates some suspense and the story builds around this making it instantly more interesting. So after struggling to keep going through the first half of the book, I could not now put it down. The storyline was gripping; I wanted to know how this would turn out. From that point onwards I knew I was not going to put this book down until I had finished. It was fantastic.

The author has written about things we don't want to think about. As a mother, reading this book is, of course, thought provoking, but it's also frustrating. I found myself wanting to shout at Franklin, not understanding why nobody could see what Eva could. I kept asking myself the same questions, long after I finished the book; was it her fault? What if...?

This is a book I will not forget for a long time. When the Daily Mail stated that it was 'Harrowing', they were not exaggerating. It's a book I would recommend to others with warnings: 

1. Keep reading, no matter how hard going it is. 

2. Don't make assumptions

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Twelve Years Today...

Twelve years today I sat waiting for the engineer to arrive to fix my microwave. One day past my due date, I could not imagine being without my microwave when the baby arrived. In fact, I could not imagine how anything might happen; I'd never had a baby before. Those were the beautiful days before the word miscarriage ever entered my mind let alone passed my lips. It was an exciting time of anticipation.

The microwave man arrived on time, fixed the problem and advised me that the door release was a little stiff and if I had a little oil, he'd gladly sort it out for me. So, twelve years today, I popped down to the garage, located the small tin of 3 in 1 and, not wanting to leave an unknown man in the house alone for too long, hastily jogged back up the steps towards the house.Unfortunately, the steps being uneven, I got a much closer look at the steps than I had intended, leaving me with cut knees and an unattractive large purple bruise on my leg. At those times, you just want your mum to rush over and pick you up, brush you down and generally give you some sympathy. I was 25 and that was not going to happen, so I pushed my rounded self up, retrieved the oil can which had been flung to the ground as I'd tumbled, and ambled up to the house. The man quickly fixed the microwave and after noticing that I was visibly shaken, ascertained that I was not seriously hurt and then left.

I did not make it to more than 2 days past my due date. The jolt on the steps had been enough to encourage the baby that it was time to leave and my beautiful daughter was born at 11.33 on 6th October 1999. It was the start of a journey. An interesting, educational, fun-filled, exciting, scary journey with twists and turns. I do not need to take you on now. It is a journey which always takes me places I never expect to go and which, no matter how difficult it gets at times, I value, appreciating more than many that some people do not have their tickets stamped and have to watch from the platform. I am lucky to have had the opportunity.

But how much I have learnt about those things people don't talk about, and nobody can explain why, but we just don't talk about them?...

You should not talk about miscarriage; it makes people uncomfortable, they don't know what to say. In any case, by the third time it happens, they are bored of hearing about it, albeit in hushed whispers, and are out of sympathy.

Oh yes, people have noticed that your child doesn't seem to like other children, but don't mention it because it's not appropriate.

If I tell you that my child has 'special needs' It takes me a long time to gather the courage to use the term. I must first pass the induction period of being stared at because my child behaves differently and does not conform, through making excuses when people (they obviously don't know the rules) ask awkward questions or compare their socially accepted 'amazing' child with mine, on to telling people I meet that my child has 'special needs', making excuses even before they meet my child, just in case they notice something and make judgements.

Sometimes I have felt like shouting STOP! I WANT TO GET OFF! But, of course, it won't stop. You can't get off. Now, we sit together on our journey, laughing (especially at other people's reactions), watching and noticing just how odd so-called 'normal' people are, contented to be travelling together and neither of us looking for the exit.

Twelve years later, when I think of the days before my microwave broke, do I sound old when I say, those were the days?