This story narrates the Manson cult craze in the 70's through the point of view of a young girl involved in the cult and murders, but using different names, as a fiction novel.

Ultimately, this book was not a crime book by my own definition and more of a sonnet to youth and counter-culture lifestyle. The Manson murders were foreshadowed throughout the book though never truly discussed but rather the feelings and atmosphere leading up to such an act. The story is told in the point of view of the narrator in both past tense (when the narrator was a teenager) and present tense: adulthood. It promised a compelling intersection of stories but did not deliver. There was no meaningful connection between the two time periods.

However, there was some poignant language about being a teenager. I thought the author did that very well.

The narrator as a teenager, analyzing her father’s new, younger, lover.

At that age I looked at women with brutal and emotionless judgement. Assessing the slope of their breasts, imagining how they would look in various crude positions.

Explaining the growing resentment in friendships:

I remember noticing for the first time how loud she was, her voice hard with silly aggressiveness. Connie with her whines and feints, the grating laugh that sounded, and was, practiced. A space opened up between us as soon as I started to notice these things, to catalog her shortcomings the way a boy would. I regret how ungenerous I was. As if by putting distance between us, I could cure myself of the same diseases.

Noticing a new friend’s reaction to her wealth.

She made a hum of surprise. “Fancy.” I could see it meant something to her, me living in the nice part of town, but I couldn’t imagine what, beyond the vague dislike for the rich that all young people had. Mashing up the wealthy and the media and the government into an indistinct vessel of evil, perpetrators of the grand hoax. I was only just starting to learn how to rig certain information with apology. How to mock myself before other people could.

Told from the narrator as an adult, when observing a teen couple after they leave for a road trip:

Without having to think about it, I knew Julian and Zav were sitting in the front seats and Sasha was in the back. I could imagine her leaning forward from time to time, asking for a joke to be repeated or pointing out some funny road sign. Trying to campaign for her own existence, before finally giving up and lying back on the seat. Letting their conversation thicken into meaningless noise while she watched the road, the passing orchards.

The last quote really stuck with me, putting to words an exact feeling I have had in dating and identity creation. The entire story read like an MFA grad’s debut novel and for the accurate depictions of youth and boredom, I appreciated this book.

This is the second book I have read where a talented writer embellishes a true crime story. The first was Cartwheel by Jennifer DoBois, which I may review on this site.

Written by Katie

Posted July 8, 2018