A Brief Synopsis- The book Leftovers , by Laura Wiess, is essentially a coming-of-age story about two girls in radically different situations who learn things the hard way and then take matters in to their own hands with mixed results. In other words, this book isn’t very unique; however, the novel is written in second person point-of-view (you go, you think, ect.). This manner of exposition invites the reader to picture him/herself in the story, which lends an unusual amount of poignancy to the plot.
Literary babblings aside, this book reminded me of my last summer at home in New Mexico, in particular this one time, rather unpleasant, when I over indulged more than usual and experienced a truly unusual emotion, one evoked continually throughout this book. “This bubble you’ve agreed to climb into has sealed shut and will never pop open because it wasn’t born of whimsy, soap, and water, but sculpted with intent as durable as glossy polymer varnish. And it hardened while you weren’t looking, shrunk into a carapace, as seamless, custom-designed, full-body cast from which there is no escape.” (P.191) Obviously that’s a somewhat dramatic example, but the emotion I’m referring to is present- the feeling of being trapped in a hell of your own design, a sudden, lightning-yellow epiphany illuminating the future as the present stands- teenagers, smoking and scaring the kids, who just want to turn cartwheels and who will, in turn, become the teenagers on the steps… a never-ending cycle in the summers stretching back to the creation of “cool” parents and cigarettes and porch steps and apartments…
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