The last time I was in the bookstore, I happened across The Impossible Knife of Memory by Laurie Halse Anderson. Upon seeing that name most people would have thought, ‘Oh, that’s the woman who wrote that phenomenal trauma novel Speak, about overcoming the trauma of sexual assault!’ I on the other hand, was thinking, ‘Hey, that’s the lady who wrote that children’s series about wannabe-veterinarians who also solve mysteries at the animal clinic they volunteer at! Oh, and that other book.’ While my idea of which book was worth recalling may not have been correct since it was influenced by eight-year-old me, I’m still grateful that I picked this one up.
‘I couldn’t put it down’ is a frequently used exaggeration by people who love the book they read. As it turns out, this time it wasn’t one. As soon as I sat down after coming home from the bookstore, I read the entire book, 400 pages cover-to-cover. I didn’t put the book down once in the almost three hours it took for me to read it. My AP Human Geography grade might have dropped a little because of the fact, but I didn’t care, because it was just that good.
Despite being nothing like the children’s books I read in elementary school, I’m still very much in love with this book. The Impossible Knife of Memory has anything a young adult novel enthusiast like me could possibly want: rebellion against the oppressive nature of the public school system, tragic backstories for every character, not just the protagonist, and well-written metaphors that make me want to cry my eyes out. The story is narrated by Hayley Kincain, who according to the blurb on the back of the book has two jobs: high school, and taking care of her father, who is a war vet and suffers from PTSD. Juggling both is a serious hassle, especially where calculus is concerned, and when Hayley finds out her alcoholic stepmother is trying to weave her way back into their lives, things only get worse.
I don’t think I’ve gotten this hooked on a book since the sequel to The Raven Boys. The book is filled to the brim with brilliant internal monologues and surprising twists and turns, making me feel like I was actually a part of it. In fact, the climax had me in real, actual tears, which has only happened twice in my extensive history of reading (the epilogue to the Harry Potter series, and the ending to the most recent Lorien Legacies book, in which a certain character did a certain, potentially spoiler-y thing.)
There’s also a love interest involved along the way, of course- it wouldn’t be a young adult novel if there wasn’t- but he’s actually quite likeable. Their subplot is handled quite tastefully: rather than the stereotypical oversaturated teen romance that I’ve grown to dread, it was much more of an internal struggle to find self-actualization for both characters that, while I did angst over it, I loved a great deal.
Whether you’re thinking about reading this book based on my review, Speak, that one children’s series she wrote, or something else entirely, I highly recommend trying it out: you won’t regret it.
