numb to this: memoir of a mass shooting

There’s a lovely tradition in the high school I work at where teachers to post the title of the book they’re currently reading on their classroom door. I was puttering around last Friday, packing up before Winter Break, and I changed my sign over to show my latest read, Kindra Neely’s graphic novel Numb to This: Memoir of a Mass Shooting. A student who has struggled in my class asked me about it, and then wanted to see the book, and then asked when is it gonna be on the bookshelf? I was reading a library copy, but you can bet I placed an order for this one as soon as I had a spare moment. In my opinion, there’s nothing better than finding a book (the right one, the one they choose!) for that student who needs it. And on top of that, this book is a must-read – an important, shattering story from a gun violence survivor – a chance to listen to someone share what that aftermath looks and feels like. 

 

Kindra Neely never expected it to happen to her. No one does. Sure, she’d sometimes been close to gun violence, like when the house down the street from her childhood home in Texas was targeted in a drive-by shooting. But now she lived in Oregon, where she spent her time swimming in rivers with friends or attending classes at the bucolic Umpqua Community College.

And then, one day, it happened: a mass shooting shattered her college campus. Over the span of a few minutes, on October 1, 2015, eight students and a professor lost their lives. And suddenly, Kindra became a survivor. This empathetic and ultimately hopeful graphic memoir recounts Kindra’s journey forward from those few minutes that changed everything.

It wasn’t easy. Every time Kindra took a step toward peace and wholeness, a new mass shooting devastated her again. Las Vegas. Parkland. She was hopeless at times, feeling as if no one was listening. Not even at the worldwide demonstration March for Our Lives. But finally, Kindra learned that—for her—the path toward hope wound through art, helping others, and sharing her story.

 

Kindra Neely survived the Umpqua Community College mass shooting in Oregon in 2015, and her beautiful, poignant, and searing memoir of the years after is absolutely required reading. There’s some background and context-setting, but the majority of Neely’s book focuses on the day of the shooting and what happened next: how she reacted in the short- and long-term, the impact of PTSD on her life, and the reality of a suicide attempt: all while presenting a front to the world. In the 300 pages of this debut graphic novel, Neely lays herself bare for a purpose, saying “I…went looking for a book about how to deal with the aftermath of a shooting, but I couldn’t find one. Maybe I could make a book to show people like me that they aren’t alone, or that their feelings are normal.”

 

Neely’s story is not just one of trauma, though it does deal with that. It keeps the tension between hope (she survived, she keeps surviving, she finds meaning in making art & helping others) and realism (there are bad days full of fear, depression is very real, and some people are uncomfortable around those who are open about their trauma). The pacing and scene changes are also telegraphed well and keep the “journey” of Neely’s life (narrative) moving. It is also heartwarming to see the real-life friends come alongside Neely in tough moments, and vice versa, even though no one is without flaws (except maybe Neely’s mom). The supportive, healthy relationships and networks from her life are excellent guides for young readers to follow, internalize, and model in their own lives.

 

Pacing and storytelling in the graphic novel format rely so much on the art… and I just want to say that Neely’s art is fabulous. I would have no idea that this was a debut – her style and linework are polished, modern, and evocative. The emotion bleeds through the pages, and while this volume is in full color, I think Neely’s neat linework and focus on facial expressions would work in any color palette. There’s doesn’t seem to be a predominant or overarching color theme, but teals and purples show up quite a bit in scenes set in Oregon, and harsh yellows and reds during moments of stress and trauma. Overt symbolism of dragonflies appears throughout (and is explained directly in the text).

 

Overall, Neely’s story and art are indistinguishable/inseparable – and the result, a compulsively-readable volume, allows her to be vulnerable in the service of helping others. Numb to This is heart-wrenching and incisive and belongs in every high school library in the country.

 

Recommended for: high school nonfiction collections, and anyone ages 14+ who has been touched by a mass shooting in some way (at this point, everyone in the US).

icebreaker

I find myself picking up more and more fantasy and science fiction these days, sometimes out of pure inclination, but also as a way to step away from the reading I do as an English teacher. However, every now and then something else will grab my attention, as A.L. Graziadei’s Icebreaker did. As a hockey fan, I couldn’t pass up their debut YA contemporary about rivals going to college together and (inevitably) falling in love in the face of high-stakes hockey pressure. 

 

Seventeen-year-old Mickey James III is a college freshman, a brother to five sisters, and a hockey legacy. With a father and a grandfather who have gone down in NHL history, Mickey is almost guaranteed the league's top draft spot.

The only person standing in his way is Jaysen Caulfield, a contender for the #1 spot and Mickey's infuriating (and infuriatingly attractive) teammate. When rivalry turns to something more, Mickey will have to decide what he really wants, and what he's willing to risk for it.

This is a story about falling in love, finding your team (on and off the ice), and choosing your own path.

 

Mickey James III is as self-aware as a white seventeen-year-old hockey prodigy-slash-legacy and college freshman could be. He’s also not doing so well. First of all, he’s fixated on going #1 in the NHL draft, second, he’s actively trying not to make close friends (he’s only going to be in college one year, after all), and third, he’s deeply depressed and hiding it from everyone who cares about him. When teammate (and fellow prodigy) Jaysen Caulfield shows up and seems to thrive off of shaking up Mickey’s world, he does the unthinkable: he starts falling for him. Icebreaker is a story about learning to listen to your feelings, learning to trust, and dealing (or not dealing) with mental illness – all under the pressure of the bright lights of an NHL future.

 

What I liked: okay, wow, I liked a lot about this book, so hold on tight. First off, the detail and description of/about hockey behind the scenes, and the reality of being a college athlete, were well done. I can’t claim to be a college athlete fiction completist, but I was a two-sport college athlete myself, and that portion of the book felt very true-to-life. Pre-season training, forced team bonding, figuring out a college campus while feeling woefully inadequate? Yep yep yep. Icebreaker’s authenticity of the behind-the-scenes chaos of college sporting life also reminded me strongly of an all-time favorite series, Ngozi Ukazu’s Check, Please! As did the forbidden pining for a teammate, lol.

 

Other things I loved: Mickey is the youngest of five sisters, all of whom are stars in their own right. I loved their back-and-forth banter, and the way they looked out for their little bro. I cannot express how much it reminded my own college experience, when my younger sister and I helped my brother adjust to campus life (yes, siblings do sometimes all go to the same school, lol). Mickey’s unabashed support and belief in his sisters was super sweet too, rounding out his character nicely. Combined with Mickey’s chip on the shoulder attitude and understandable abandonment issues, he definitely came across as a well-formed character, and a moody boy too. I also loved Mickey’s text message banter with Jaysen, his coming out scene(s), and the way that his hockey-famous family don’t make his sexual orientation a problem.

 

Weaknesses: Backstory and detail around Mickey’s childhood wasn’t introduced until quite late in the narrative. This left his self-identity out of focus, sort of hanging out in the background as he adapted to college, and experienced new-to-college adventures, until BAM! trauma ahead!! That was a little jarring. I think it makes sense – it’s authentic to the way humans think (avoid, avoid! avoid!!! until unavoidable), and the story is told in the first person after all. It was just a bit confusing on the reader side of things, as it was hard to understand Mickey’s unwavering focus on the draft as the be-all and end-all, and his fixation on a rivalry with Caulfield, without it. The college jock banter also felt half-formed. Some of it felt real, yes. But I think that the book would have benefited from about 20% more dialogue overall, to really get a sense of characters other than Mickey.

 

What I wanted more of: the James siblings! In Mickey’s eyes his sisters are certainly larger-than-life, and I feel like I could read a story centered around each one of them. I also wanted to know more about Nova Vintner, Mickey’s ex and best friend. The reader basically only gets to know her through texts, and I wanted more about her and how she and Mickey arrived at rock-solid friendship at age seventeen. There were also a couple of points where Graziadei mentions that the characters chatted about insignificant things, or important stuff… but then didn’t give details! As a reader, I would prefer to read those conversations than try to imagine them! (I didn’t know enough about the other characters to guess what they might talk about, and our protagonist Mickey is described as grumpy and socially stunted).

 

Overall, Icebreaker was a very enjoyable read as a fan of hockey, LGBTQ+ YA, and as a former college athlete. Though it wasn’t perfect, I was definitely rooting for Mickey (and Jaysen!), and I devoured their story in one day.

 

Recommended for: fans of hockey and Check, Please!, and those looking to round out their bookshelves with college-set YA, LGBTQ+ representation, and/or contemporaries that deal with mental health challenges.