There are only three things that matter to twelve-year-old Alice Alexis Queensmeadow: Mother, who wouldn’t miss her; magic and color, which seem to elude her; and Father, who always loved her. The day Father disappears from Ferenwood he takes nothing but a ruler with him. But it’s been almost three years since then, and Alice is determined to find him. She loves her father even more than she loves adventure, and she’s about to embark on one to find the other.
But bringing Father home is no small matter. In order to find him she’ll have to travel through the mythical, dangerous land of Furthermore, where down can be up, paper is alive, and left can be both right and very, very wrong. It will take all of Alice’s wits (and every limb she’s got) to find Father and return home to Ferenwood in one piece. On her quest to find Father, Alice must first find herself—and hold fast to the magic of love in the face of loss.
All anyone knew was that Father took nothing but a ruler when he left, so some said he’d gone to measure the sea. Others said the sky. The moon. Maybe he’d learned to fly and had forgotten how to come back down.
The main thing that set Shatter Me apart from all the other dystopian YA novels was Tahereh, and her transcendent writing style. In the case of Shatter Me, such a writing style transformed the novel from OK to exceptional, enjoyable to indespensable.
Thus, when I saw Tahereh was releasing a new book, I was ecstatic.
However, when I realised it was a middle grade novel, my ecstasy melted away a little bit. I wasn’t completely put off (clearly), but – I must admit – I was a little disappointed. Tahereh had written one of my favourite YA series, had tortured me with poetic love stories and lost ways, and now she was writing a kids book?! I didn’t understand it at all.
So the book was released, and people enjoyed it, but I didn’t think much of it. I was too stubborn to backtrack into middle grade territory and read this book.
That was, until, I entered a mammoth reading slump.
It was awful.
Everything was tedious. Chapters were too long. Subject matter was too boring. Plots were too predictable.
I couldn’t think of anything to get myself out of it, and so I analysed my TBR until I found Furthermore. Then I went onto the Amazon store, downloaded a copy for my Kindle, and started reading. And it was such a great decision.
I was wrong to throw this book aside, calling it a “kids’ book” and thinking nothing more of it. This book is divine.
From the subject matter to the plot to the characters to the writing, every aspect of this book was thrilling and exciting and intruging and kept me on my toes, kept me enthralled, kept me wanting to read more and more. (This is an emotion I had not felt in a long time.) At the very first page I knew I was in for a treat. I knew I was reading a novel that was about to set the bar for all books I read after it. And boy, is that bar set high!
I loved this book. Every single bit of it. The characters we dynamic, so much so that they felt like they were about to jump out of the page. The writing is exquisite, from the metaphors to the puns to just about every sentence printed – everything was unique and original, ideas I’d never even thought of presented to me on a silver platter, ready for my devouring.
I just loved it.
So I gave it 5/5 stars, and then I wrote this review. And, now, I am going to implore everyone reading this review follow in my footsteps:
You won’t regret it.
The sun was raining again. Soft and bright, rainlight fell through the sky, each drop tearing a neat hole in the season.
…reliable sorts of changes, like night turning into day and rain turning into snow. They didn’t much care for night turning into cake or rain turning into shoelaces, because that wouldn’t make sense, and making sense was terribly important to these people who’d built their lives around magic.
She’d somehow gotten it into her head that being quiet meant being invisible and so she prayed that her silence would somehow make him blind, instead of louder.
Some evenings all the unspoken hurts piled high on their plates and they ate sorrow with their syrup without saying a word about it.
Rainlight was what put the magic in their world; it filtered through the air and into the soil; it grew their plants and trees and added dimension and vibrance to the explosion of colors they lived in. Red was ruby, green was fluorescent, yellow was simply incandescent. Color was life. Color was everything. Color, you see, was the universal sign of magic.
She couldn’t tell who was crying harder: herself or the sky.
They walked for days. Weeks. Months and years. “Don’t be so dramatic,” Oliver said. “It’s only been fifteen minutes.”
Quitting would be easy. Dying would be simple. But neither would solve her problems.
“Your father is in prison.” Alice heard her breath hitch. “And his sentence is very long,” said Oliver. “Oh yes,” said Tim. “It was made up of many words.”
life was never lived in absolutes. People would both love her and rebuff her; they would show both kindness and prejudice. The simple truth was that Alice would always be different—but to be different was to be extraordinary, and to be extraordinary was an adventure.
And Oliver smiled and Alice smiled back, and she looked up at the sky and wondered, as she closed her eyes, how this small, cluttered world had managed to make room for all her happiness.
If you enjoyed _____, you’ll love Furthermore!