Book review #1: Just Listen by Sarah Dessen

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Book title: Just Listen
Author: Sarah Dessen
Genre: Contemporary fiction
Publisher: Puffin
Pages: 371
My rating: 2 out of 5. 

The protagonist of the story, Annabel Greene is very relatable. At one glance, you'd think her life is perfect and that she has it all- model looks, great friends, a full and happy family. But on the very first page of the book, the author makes it clear that looks can be deceiving. Between her two older sisters- Kristen, who is bubbly and full of life and always has too much to say and Whitney, who is breathtakingly beautiful and smart, Annabel has always felt left out, trying to stick in 'somewhere in between.' 
And to top it all off, she loses her friends to one unspeakable summer where something terrible happens. While the characters are neatly crafted out and Annabel is well understood, Kristen's character starts feeling unnecessary and irrelevant to the story somewhere in between. Whitney, on the other hand, has a big role to play in the story formation and is probably more significant than the Antagonist- Owen Amstrong. 

Owen Armstrong's role in the book is easy- he is honest and straight forward and goes well with Annabel's character who is in turn shy and silent.
Annabel finds it hard to open up to her family and her lost friends but something surprising happens ever since Owen enters her life- she stops hiding and starts speaking up. With Owen's easy attitude and realistic approach, he starts making an impact on Annabel's life unknowingly and even becomes somewhat of an inspiration. But at the same time, I thought his character felt a little too perfect which made him seem more like he was created only to support Annabel's character and less like a real human being. 
Inspite of a good suspense created by the author, the story as a whole lacked twists and became monotonous after a point. 
Even though it is clear that Annabel loses her best friend (Clarke) at the very beginning and becomes friend's with the devil and it-girl Sophie, the author keeps trying to emphasize their roles in the book and keeps trying to show how forlorn Annabel is, making it feel like the story is on pause half way through. 

And yet, even though the book moves at a slow pace, it is an interesting read because every character's background is well explained and solid and goes really well in contrast with Annabel's. 
What I liked the most about the story was that it showed how slowly things started changing in Annabel's life, making all the events seem very realistic. The author didn't jump to a conclusion or settle things too quickly, instead she made me feel like I was a part of Annabel's life, like I was watching her grow up through her room's window. 

She learns her lessons and grows up as a person. She stops hiding because of music and Owen. It doesn't seem like the main character is Annabel, it just seems like she's the narrator because the author has placed enough emphasis on characters like Sophie, Clarke, Whitney, Owen and even Annabel's mother (Grace), to make it feel like we're going through a little of all their lives, making the book even more confluent and enjoyable. 

It is a good read for contemporary lovers like me, however if you're looking for a book with twists and turns and major suspense, then don't pick it up.   

This is my first review ever but I'm hoping to do more of these, so let me know what you think. I tried my best to not add any spoilers but forgive me if I have unintentionally done so.
If you do end up reading the book or already have, tell me what your thoughts are on it. (link below)
Thank you!  

http://www.amazon.in/Just-Listen-Sarah-Dessen/dp/0141322918/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1469896234&sr=1-1&keywords=just+listen 

Five stages of loss

Denial. 

No. 
She’s not gone. 
I’m telling them, but they aren’t listening to me.
They didn’t know her, you know? Like how I did. I mean…I am her best friend. I’m sorry. Was. I was her best friend. She would have told me…I would have seen it. She’s gone right now…but she’s coming back. I know it. I can feel it. The universe is bending and when it’s straight and it’s all right, she’ll be here. This universe needs her. She knew that. She was happy…she smiled all the time. She knew how much she meant to people. 
No. 
She’s here. I can feel her presence within me. Everything about her was so light…it was like she floated. And if she could float, then she couldn’t drown. When the colours are gone and the whispers are here, her voice will be the loudest and clearest and she’ll tell me what she always does, “Oh honey, you wish.” 
No. 
She’s talking to me right now. She’s teasing me. She’s looking at me and thinking, “What? You really believed I was gone?” She was strong. She was strong and fierce and unshakable. The earth could shatter and break and burn to the ground, but she? She would be still. She would be still and silent and beautiful.  I knew her and I knew what she would and wouldn’t do. If something was wrong…I could have sensed it. She’s sitting next to me, with her right leg crossed over her left, her chin high, her eyes flaming and she’s laughing at me. She’s here all right. She’s here. 
No. 
I won’t accept anything else.

Guilt.

I could’ve stopped it. 
I could have held her hand and pulled her back up. I know I could have. 
I should have looked at the light in her eyes and I should have seen it fading. I should have seen them become empty sockets. I should have seen the fire burn out. 
How did I not?
I could’ve stopped it. 
I should have spent the whole night making it better. I should have heard the silence on the other end.  If only I knew. If only I saw it. All the things I should have done. And who else would have? Who else would have pulled her up? I can hear her telling me now…I can hear all the things she said and she quoted and all the things I left unnoticed. All those things I should have looked at closely. “And I would never want to see the light in your eyes burn out. Because without light, what would we have?” 
She wasn’t quoting a book. She was quoting herself. How did I not see it? This is my fault. This is all my fault. 
I could’ve stopped it. 
I should have seen the dust and wiped it clean. I should have seen the shadows and been the sun. I should have seen the dark and brought a candle. I should have seen the fire and blown it out. How did I miss it? I was that one person who could have told her, “No. No, you are stronger than this. You can stop that voice in your head. You can control it.” And I didn’t. I let it slip out of my hands. I let her slip.
If only. 
If only I had seen it. If only I had paid more attention. 
Maybe she would still be here.
Maybe…I could’ve stopped it. 

Anger.

How could she do that to me?
How dare she leave me alone in this stupid, stupid, broken world? We were in this together, right? We always had been. And then she left…she escaped…leaving me here to rot. 
She was selfish. All she cared about was herself! She left and she didn’t look back. She didn’t even stop to look back. 
What did she think? That after she leaves everything will be perfect?
As if the sun would still shine. As if the clock would still tick. As if the world would still be full and perfect. 
How could she do that to me?
The ripple effect. 
She always spoke about how everything we do in life…has a gazillion consequences. About how everything we do, good or bad, makes a difference not just in our lives…but in so many. She was the one who taught me to think about the ripple effect our actions and words could cause.
Didn’t she f******* think about what ripple effect she would cause?
Didn’t she think about the amount of lives her actions would touch? 
HOW COULD SHE DO THAT TO ME?
HOW DARE SHE? 
Who gave her the right to fly and leave me buried? Who gave her the right to swim and let me drown? 
HOW COULD SHE DO THAT TO ME? 
I’ve spoken to her about her bitchy impulsive decisions. 
She knew. She knew she wasn’t thinking. She knew she would wake up the next day and feel better. Maybe if she ever stopped to see beyond her meaningless childish tantrums, she  could have seen us. Me. Her family. Her life. 
But that’s the thing. She didn’t. All her eyes could see was herself. Her view beyond that was dark and empty. Maybe if her f****** soul wasn’t as dark and empty as the rest of her….she would have thought about the people around her. 
I hate her. 
This is all her fault. 
She brought this on herself. 
I know now how she could do it to me. 
I was a nobody, why couldn’t she?

Depression.

Depression. 
Depression consumes you. It takes over every part of your body till you feel yourself choke. Till you feel the air caught in your lungs, suffocating you, pushing you down, closing in on you, failing you. Just like everything else.  
First you feel a rush of pain in every part of your body. Your bones, your skin, your nerves, every cell in your body. You feel miserable and all you want to do is sit in a corner, pull your legs close to your chest, close your eyes and hope to never open them again. You feel freedom in the darkness and fear in the light. You feel numb. Once the numbness settles in, everything fades out. Once the pain takes over you completely, the realization hits and you feel a rush of anger. Anger that blinds. Anger that’s so sharp you’re scared it will drive you insane. But, you let it wash over you. Because this is anger. And anger is still better than pain. Pain will weaken you. But anger? Anger will make you strong. And when you’re too tired to be angry anymore, you begin weeping. Weeping because you realize the anger did no good. You realize nothing became better because acting on your anger only makes things worse. You begin realizing things the hard way. 
After swollen eyes, broken heart and all the tears drained out from them….you feel nothing. You feel absolutely nothing. When you’re at this point, you can’t see….you can’t hear. There’s only you and the world. There’s nothing before and nothing beyond and nothing in between. Depression isn’t anger. Depression isn’t pain. Depression is feeling nothing. Depression is the deafness and the numbness. 
You’d think feeling nothing is power, and that it makes you invincible, but you’re wrong. Because once you feel nothing…there’s no coming back. There’s this big fat void. But you know what the scary part is? You don’t know how deep the void is. So if you fall…do you keep falling? Do you ever stop falling?
Do you ever land? 
It makes me wonder…was this how she was feeling before she decided to…
Maybe it wasn’t  the ‘everything’ that ended her. Maybe it was the exact opposite. Maybe it was the nothing. 
She wasn’t depressed. The depression was her. It was her mind and soul and body. It was feeding on her. 
The depression consumed her.

 

Acceptance. 

I don’t get it. 
And I don’t think I ever will. 
She’s gone and she’s not coming back and that’s not okay. It wasn’t okay for her build a wall so high, that she could have never climbed over it. 
Will I ever forget her? No. We weren’t just best friends. We were soul sisters. We were blood and bones. But then again, will I ever forgive her? I doubt it. 
So how do you ever accept something like this? I don’t know. 
There are a lot of things I don’t know. There are a lot of things I never will. 
But the thing is that, it wasn’t about me. It wasn’t for me to understand. All this while I blamed her because I kept thinking…how could she leave me here alone to fix this puzzle? She’s the missing piece, and if she’s not there…how do I fix it? 
But that’s the thing. When the rope was around her neck and the stool was cold below her feet, she wasn’t thinking about me or her family. She was thinking about herself. 
No. There’s no moving on. There’s no erasing what happened. 
There is what there is and I just have to learn to live with it. 
If you think about it, that’s exactly what she should have done too. She should have learnt. She should have taken all her broken pieces and asked for someone to help her fix them. Ask for someone to help her mend. 
She always told me, “I hate red roses. What’s so special about red? Black roses are what are special. They’re bold and fierce and final.” Bold and fierce and final. Just like her.
So now I’ve inked a red rose with perfect black. The kind of black which leaves nothing behind. The kind of black that takes everything with it. I can finally see why she liked black so much. Black is honest. Black isn’t doubtful.  
I place the rose gently in front of her grave. Only one petal touching her grey stone. I read her epitaph which I had the honor to write. She would have loved it, and why wouldn’t she have? They were exactly what she wanted. 
“May your eye go to the Sun, To the wind your soul…You are all the colors in one, at full brightness.”  (Jennifer Niven)

She always wanted to fly. Always wanted to be amongst the kites and birds and clouds and even the tip of the trees. And now finally, she can.

~Naqiyah Hasan

What I've learnt about writing so far

1. Write about something you know.

By this, I don't mean that you should put a hold on your imagination and only write about things you've seen or felt. But...but, it's important to know that you have to truly understand what you've written. For instance, you can't just make up a poem that sounds fancy because it rhymes. The poem has to make sense. If not to the entire world, then at least to you.
You have to put yourself in the shoes of your character that you're writing. You have to become your character entirely. This doesn't just count for your main character, it counts for each and every character that you write.
What's the point of creating a character, if you yourself as a writer, don't even understand him/ her? You can't expect other people to understand your character, if you don't.

2. Your writing changes with your method.

You can't expect your style of writing while typing and while manually writing, to be the same. Typing and writing, even though both are accepted and equally glorious, are not the same. Both need the same talent of writing, yet, both make all the difference in the world. I am mostly a typist. Writing manually requires more patience and more time. Hats off to people who can do both with equal ease!

3. You have to be comfortable with what you write.

I am most comfortable while writing in 1st person: I, my, me, we, our. Being able to write in both 1st person and 3rd person with equal beauty is difficult. This is one important thing I learned while writing my book. Since I usually write in 1st person, I wanted to try something new by writing the second part of my story in 3rd person.
It was a task. I had to re-read everything more times than I'd like to admit. But then again, it was definitely worth it. It was a good practice as an amateur and helped me improve in what is not my biggest strength.

4. Make sure your tense is right. 

Now, before you start thinking why I would write about this, the most basic thing in English literature, hold your thought. Because, even though tense is the foundation of writing, it is also a very tricky thing. It is easier for a reader to spot a tense error, than it is for a writer. Your tenses can make or break your entire story. For this reason, it is very important to have a third person to read your story. They can give you a review as a reader and you'll be surprised by how much they can help, even if they aren't avid readers or writers.
Don't be too full of yourself to accept a mistake in your writing.

5. Don't be afraid to edit. 

While writing, if you're constantly trying to make sure everything is perfect so that you don't have to re-read it, then you're not going to go a long way. Being confident about your work is important, but even the best authors in the world have to re-read their work and edit it. This means you might have to re-read it even ten times (or more, if needed) to make sure your end result is perfect. While writing in your flow, even if you notice that you've made a mistake, don't stop. Let the words flow. Then, after you're done with a page, or a chapter, re-read the entire thing slowly and carefully. Reading it aloud helps to catch your mistakes even more easily.


6. Starting from the beginning is okay.

You're not always going to be fully content with what you write. And for me, being satisfied with my work is the most important thing. That is why, when I'm not happy with something, I delete the entire thing and re-write it. If I'm not happy with it  yet again, I delete it and re-write.
You can't be lazy. You can't expect other people to appreciate your work, if you yourself are not thoroughly satisfied with it. Don't write just for the sake of writing. Mean what you write. Stand by your words.
When you're done with writing, always ask yourself this question: would I be happy with this work, if someone else had written it?

7. Read more than you write. 

If you don't read, you cannot write. It's as simple as that. The best form of learning how to write and becoming better, is to keep reading books.
There is no such thing as perfect when it comes to writing. There's always place for improvement. The day you decide that you're done with reading, is the day you should stop writing.

I recently wrote a novel called 'Feather People' and these are some very important things I learned in the entire process. I am going to remember these things every time I write something; then whether it is a school essay or an article, or poem, or book, is irrelevant.  
I hope this relatable to everyone who is passionate about writing! 

My book is about the life of four different girls. It puts light on how every action of a person, affects every small part of their life. It's about how big a role coincidences and destiny can play in one's life. It is about courage, secrets and hope. 
You can buy my book internationally on Amazon. It is also available on Flipkart, Bookadda, Infibeam. As an e-book, you can purchase it from Amazon, kindle.