It grieves me to do this (I know, low blow, sorry), but I feel I have to get my thoughts on this book out there, since there are so many positive reviews of it, a differing opinion might help to balance things out and gain another perspective. Especially for a book that handles such delicate, multilayered, and important subject matters, and is constantly praised for its diversity.
Because of this, my contrary review of 'The Grief Keeper' might be controversial, polarizing, and lots are going to hate it.
But it is my opinion, nothing more. And I will try to organise my thoughts as best I can. Feel free to disagree or agree.
Another disclaimer: My views reflect the book and the book alone, not the author, who I'm sure is a lovely person with the best intentions.
What I must say about 'The Grief Keeper' is that its premise is AMAZING. A teenage girl from El Salvador goes through hell and back to cross the American boarder for any chance of a better, safer, easier life, whilst protecting her younger sister who she would die for. Going back may mean a death sentence - both for causing the destruction of a gang that ruined her life, and for being gay. She would do anything to stay in America and provide for her sister, even if that means subjecting herself to an experiment that allows her to take/absorb the grief of others. She becomes a grief keeper, of sorts; for soldiers with PTSD, or any white person's grief and depression, as if she hasn't already suffered enough on her own.
It's a brilliant reflection of America's dehumanizing immigration laws and boarder control, and its terrible treatment of migrants - "To live here, you must do something for us, you must fix our messes and take our shit, and do the jobs no privileged person with a choice wants. You have no right to complain; you're lucky we're giving you this much. You owe us." Its treatment of children absolutely needs to be highlighted as well. Not to mention there's the fact that trauma can't be measured, can't be judged on which is more "important" to focus on depending on the class of the person suffering, nor can it be "moved" just like that; healing doesn't work that way. Psychological "cures" are never so simple in human beings.
So you can imagine how hyped I was to read 'The Grief Keeper'. Such high expectations are warranted to what truly sounds like the best idea in the world. I think it is partly because of this that I originally rated it three stars, since while it has flaws, its heart is in the right place.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realised that the bad outweighs the good in it in my mind. Top it off with my disappointment and you have a very sad, crushed reader in your hands.
Now onto the book itself:
First thing I noticed right away is that the pacing is so fast! We are immediately with Marisol Morales and her sister Gabi in an American asylum (in Pennsylvania, I think?) where she is being interviewed. No explanation on how they got there, or what they've been through. Even the interview barely scratches the surface. And nearly thirty pages later, the grief-keeping plot itself kick starts in New York, after a very short escape attempt from a detention center.
Bits and pieces of the girls' journey are mentioned infrequently throughout, but it's all in small, inconsequential detail, and I felt detached from it. Marisol mentions arriving in Texas and another completely different place once, when she'd started crossing the boarder, and I'm like, "Huh? When did that happen? What happened there? How did they manage to get to these spots? Care to explain?" But no: 'The Grief Keeper' is extremely vague on details and important information that would be needed in order for the reader to feel grounded in its reality and believe in it and the heroine's plight.
I mean, it's great that we are cutting to the chase and the main action directly, and not wasting too much time on infodumps, flashbacks, and excessive worldbuilding. But slowing down a little creates opportunities for atmosphere, investment, authenticity, and understanding the thought processes and emotional states of the characters; so that we care more about what is going on with them.
A supersonic pace, vagueness, ill-advised lack of detail and explanations: These are some of the main issues I have with 'The Grief Keeper'. Speaking of...
Once Marisol is told about the government-funded grief-transfer experiment (called the CTS project), she agrees to it almost immediately with no thoughts and feelings over the various (putting it lightly) implications. The barely-presented assumption is that she would do anything for her little sister to have a normal life in the States. Indeed, the loving sisterly bond is one of the best parts of the book. But I find it hard to stomach that Marisol would blindly agree to be a clear, obvious lab rat - a foreigner and illegal immigrant; meaning, an easy target for government agents - after everything she has been through, after all the distrust she's harboured, even if in the end she's given no choice.
Some scientific methods on how the procedure of transferring grief and PTSD from one person to another are explained (something to do with neurotransmitters and other chemicals in the brain), even if they are not exactly accurate. That's okay, as it is science fiction, and metaphorical in a way that serves the story's political messages.
What is never explained, however, is how Marisol can not only feel the emotions of her "donor", but also gain their memories of their traumatic event. She experiences everything firsthand, which supposedly should go away naturally very soon since the feelings are not attached to her personally, and they mean nothing to her, so in theory the experiment is overall harmless for everyone involved. She keeps the "retaining memories" part quiet at first because she doesn't want to disappoint her superiors with complicated news, and risk the experiment shutting down and her and her sister being deported. Never mind that science is all about the data, the unexpected and unplanned, and adapting to unforeseen developments all the time. It is kind of frustrating, and makes Marisol appear meek and a further tool of the US government.
When the side effect is found out later in the book, it's hardly a footnote - nobody cares, no explanation for the phenomenon is given, and it's not mentioned again. Terrific.
In addition to the pacing and ambiguity issues, before I even get to Marisol's main donor (her first is a soldier who was next to her in a courtyard at lunch, but then he disappears and is never mentioned again; see a pattern here?) and love interest, Rey, first I must write about the character inconsistencies. Marisol can be strong, independent, loud and snarky, every inch the protective older sister in a foreign country, backing down only when she has to. But also, depending on the plot, she's meek, obedient, and quiet when she should be screaming and protesting to the heavens, her self-preservation and esteem at a low and at odds with the girl who risked everything to get herself and her sister where they are now. It doesn't feel like a natural progression, like Marisol is suffering too much to bear in shouldering another girl's grief, and she's become numb, beaten down, depressed. It happens too quickly, unevenly and confusedly to flow well, with her character and the story.
Then there's the people responsible for Marisol's suffering and the CTS project. Dr. Deng I think is meant to be the villain, with his snide, patronising remarks and behaviour, and predatory smiles. But he's not in the story much and he receives no comeuppance whatsoever. We last see him treating a relapsed Marisol without a care in the world at about the third of the way through the book, then he disappears and is never mentioned again.
Indranie Patel is like the voice of reason and the sympathetic mentor to Marisol's case. I think. She really isn't that sympathetic to the girl at all, and in some instances her dialogue is barely distinguishable from Dr. Deng's, patronising and telling Marisol to trust her entirely with no explanation or answers to important questions. Everybody has flaws, and it is beaten into the ground that Indranie is a government employee and therefore morally gray at best. However I can't forgive the inconsistency, as I can't get a hold of just who Indranie is and why I should care about her, as I'm clearly supposed to.
She doesn't care about Marisol, as evidenced when, later on, Marisol, clinically depressed and overwhelmed with Rey's grief (which never went away, big surprise, and nobody gives a damn), in a daze after a fight with Gabi, unconsciously tries to commit suicide. Indranie saves her, which is meant to be the moment we see her as a hero and can trust her, as her calm wall breaks down and she cries with regret and worry. But she spoils it with these lines:
"I did everything I could to ruin your life. But I swear I didn't want you to suffer. I only wanted to keep Rey safe." - Page 237
What?
"I'm not a bad person." - Page 237
Your actions and words speak otherwise. You used and lied to a desperate immigrant girl and her little sister. Because you're in love with the grief-stricken rich white donor's father. You knew exactly what you were doing, when you should have known better.
When Indranie initially came to the detention center, looking for the perfect candidate and lab rat:
"I waited in the hallway. I looked into the dormitories--all those terrified faces, mothers and children, little babies, all crammed into rooms, rows and rows of metal beds, piles of clothes. I wasn't sure I could do it." - Page 239
Then, just when you think she might have a conscience:
"It was nearly twenty minutes before the director told me they couldn't find you, or your sister. I knew it was time for me to leave. I couldn't get mixed up in a scandal of missing immigrant children." - Page 239
She makes it all about her. No further comment is made about the treatment of the immigrants at the detention center, neither by Indranie nor by Marisol. Bizarrely, they don't care. Not enough, anyway.
So the CTS project is skeevy, unethical, and has consequences. What I want to shout to these people is: What the hell did you expect?
But that's not all. Indranie goes on to say how she picked up Marisol and Gabi, "two brown girls", walking from the center, and how it was bingo for her, and for the experiment
"You were this close to killing yourself! You think I can live with that? I can't. I won't. You're going to take that cuff off." - Page 241
That's right. She makes a teenage girl's pain and agony - which she put her in in the first place - and subsequent attempted suicide, all about her. How it would affect her. This is never called out on, so I can't be sure if the author knew what she was doing with the way the above line, and the others, are worded.
Screw you, Indranie Patel. I have no sympathy for you.
At least there was an attempt to make you a three-dimensional character, unlike Dr. Deng.
The one good thing about this chapter is this paragraph:
I turn to look at Indranie. Can she really have been so credula? To believe it would be like magic? Magic is power without consequences. That's why it isn't real. Everything has consequences. - Page 238
Simple. Powerful. Relevant. Effective. One of the best lines.
Finally, I will talk about Rey, the donor. She is Marisol's age, conveniently, and stinking rich, white, and traumatised by the death of her twin brother at a concert, presumably by a terrorist attack. Yeah, it is not stated outright if it was a terrorist attack that caused the explosions, much less who had caused all those deaths and why. For a book this politically-charged, and one delving into how differently people grieve, that is a deplorable narrative choice. Specific details needed in order to understand your plot and characters, as well as logical reasons, are stupid and unnecessary, according to 'The Grief Keeper'.
Anyway, I quite liked Rey and how real she was. Her grief, wanting to keep it to herself despite it killing her, and Marisol's eventual absorption of it, giving her a chance of lightness and happiness, felt natural and heartbreaking. Rey is unstable and unpredictable; highlighting how she copes with grief and how its sudden absence can be affecting her mind. She's numb, not totally there, not totally herself. It's unnatural, what is done to her.
Marisol also lost a brother to violence back in El Salvador, and while for understandable reasons (trust me, this is something to savour in this book) she no longer cares for him and that he's gone, it is something she shares in common with Rey. I cared about the two devastated girls' blossoming relationship... at first.
When Rey finds out about how the grief-transmutation is affecting Marisol (again, what did anyone expect?! Why didn't Rey suspect anything before? Marisol has obviously been depressed), she is beyond angry. Much more than Marisol, the victim, is. The rich American girl confronts Indranie. After Indranie explains how her own immigrant parents had to take the menial jobs they could to survive and live in the US, Rey says:
"Do not fucking compare this with cleaning bathrooms and being a nanny. This could have killed Marisol."- Page 276
Here it gets very uncomfortable. In context, Rey has every right to be mad at these adults who are dictating her life and feelings, and Marisol's (Rey's father is present, and for some reason he doesn't volunteer for the CTS project himself, despite his own grief at losing his son). But we also have a rich American white girl undermining the experiences of brown-skinned immigrants. While the immigrants themselves remain meek and quiet about it. The subtext is unmistakable, even if unintentional and misguided. The plot progression has forced this to happen.
Rey is angry for the benefit of Marisol, her lover. But Marisol herself hardly says a word in her own defense. She lets a white person do it for her. She is so self-pitying she doesn't care about herself anymore, and it reads as pathetic. Read this exchange:
'"You aren't an illegal. You are a person. A girl." [...] "You have a right to live and love. And to not be afraid."
"I don't," I say. "No one has that right."' - Page 278
Uh... okay. Care to elaborate on that? No?
And what Rey is doing here is basically whitesplaining. Or Americansplaining, or USsplaining, whatever you want to call it. She's whitesplaining to a poor immigrant girl about how important she is and that she matters, when the immigrant wouldn't be able to figure that out on her own, for whatever reason. Heck, Rey is the one to coin the term "grief keeper". It is one of Rey's white friends who'd compared Marisol to a lab rat in the first place; it apparently didn't cross our heroine's mind until then. But then it's glossed over and barely explored further.
Marisol is given extremely little agency and assertion, not to mention self-awareness, in her own story. For someone who has gone through so much shit, she is rather too ignorant, gullible, naive, and eager to be used.
Would Rey be so caring and sympathetic if she and Marisol weren't in love, I wonder? There is a huge class and privilege divide between them, and it's an elephant in the room that I can't shake off after this development.
At that, the experiment is over (for them, but I seriously doubt it will not continue to be used on someone else, performed by the suspect Dr. Deng, but that is yet another detail that isn't explored further and is dropped before any implications can even manifest), and all is undeservedly forgiven.
The last big issue I want to talk about is the ending. Or the lack of one. There is no climax; only Marisol finding her few-hours-missing sister at a party, mirroring how she'd sworn to protect Gabi after she was practically kidnapped and almost raped by a gang leader in El Salvador. Nothing happens at the party, however, and Marisol grabs Gabi and...
Final chapter, which is four pages long, where Marisol is seeking asylum once again. In this interview she tells the truth, about why she left her home country as a refugee. Because of the threats made against her due to her sexual orientation, and against her sister who was almost a victim of corrective rape so she wouldn't turn out like Marisol. Then Marisol leaves and rides into the sunset with Rey and...
That's it. End of book. No insights. No reflection on the nature of grief and that it can't be measured. No epiphany on the limitless layers - micro and macro - of human suffering and prejudice. No bookends - what happens now? Do the sisters live with Rey? Where's Gabi? Where's Dr. Deng? What about Marisol's mother, who is still in El Salvador and is waiting to be reunited with her daughters? What about Mrs. Rosen, who was supposed to have been the girls' guardian in the US, but who had died when they arrived? Marisol had kept the death a secret from Gabi until the middle of the story, and when it's out, it turns into a nonissue. One scarcely explored.
It goes nowhere. Just like nearly every issue presented.
'The Grief Keeper' ends as it begins: Vague, fast, with very little care for necessary details.
No wonder it's only 306 pages long. For a book that should have been heavy.
There isn't a cliffhanger, and I'm not sure about a sequel being planned. There is no suggestion of one.
Wow this is a long review. I haven't even gotten to the girl-hate between Marisol and Rey's toxic friend Pixie, and how her male friends, Dave and Stitch, manage to be the most wonderful and compelling characters in spite of only appearing in one chapter, sadly. How Marisol speaks almost perfect English, and knows most English swearwords and literary references, yet doesn't know the words "bullshit" and "Frankenstein". She says "bull's shit", even after she's corrected. The illogicality of Gabi, who I like and is a sweet and interesting young character, not knowing that her sister is gay. When she must have known why she was targeted by the gang in El Salvador; why they had to leave their home to begin with. Hell, her brother and the gang leader had clearly stated to Marisol, in Gabi's presence, why they were doing what they were doing. Obviously the true reason is that the gang leader was a pedophile and a pervert (he flirted with Marisol when she was younger, too), and this was merely an excuse. The homophobia in this flashback scene is over the top, but I'm not in a position to judge on how it would actually have gone down in real life, so I won't criticise it.
There might be more niggling things to comment on, but I've written enough for one review.
Bonus positive: The maid characters are nice.
So that's 'The Grief Keeper', from me to you. It held so much promise, so much potential. It could have been fantastic; it should have been fantastic. But unfortunately, its execution left me feeling cold. It is almost heartbreaking.
This is yet another disappointment from this year that I will carry with me, no transmission tech required to relieve me of it. Only writing this honest review may release some of the burden.
I had to have my opinion known. If you like this book, great. I'm happy that it's brought happiness to so many people.
I'm not mad, I'm disappointed.
Final Score: 2/5
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