Daisy Rush

Andrew’s world is very small. He’s always lived in the same place, he has two best friends, and he’s been infatuated with same girl for all four years of high school. Now he is graduating and his small world is blown apart with one horrible accident. His best friend, Sara, is left in a coma after a car crash of her own doing, and his other closest friend, Marcia, spends every waking second by her side in the hospital. Andrew is left at home to pick up the pieces of his world which has now become two friend-sized spaces smaller.

Pushing past the waves of grief and guilt, Andrew finds that his situation – while extremely unfortunate – is bringing Laura closer to him. Although he is unsure of her intentions, Andrew pushes his self-consciousness aside and thrusts himself into her world, leaving as much as he can of his own behind. He begins to hang out with her and her very religious friends, learning that her religion, which he has always been wary of, is more a part of her life than he is ready for. Andrew has a few out-of-body experiences, leaving him to think that maybe Sara’s accident was God’s way of trying to show himself to Andrew.

But what is Laura’s motive for getting closer to Andrew? Is she using the situation to try to convert Andrew, or is she finally interested in him? No matter what Andrew says or does, Laura just seems to get farther away from him. When Sara finally is declared brain dead and taken off of life support, Andrew finds his way to Marcia and the two of them laugh – and cry – over what Andrew’s small world has become.

This is the first novel written by Vermont-native, Pratima Cranse. The reason I picked this book out of the many newly published options was because I was drawn to the modern-day search for spirituality. As someone who began her journey of faith in high school, I connected with Andrew’s questions and doubts. Since his newfound spiritually was mixed up in his friend’s Sara’s accident, there was a lot of anger involved in his questions.

He wasn’t allowed to ask about Sara, but he could ask for Marcia, and she would give him an update. An update. Nothing’s changed. Sara’s in a coma. If she wakes up at all, she might never walk again, talk again, eat real food again, have sex, fall in love. [Screw] God,” he thought, and slammed the phone down. (88)

These feelings were extremely warranted, but did not help him feel like there was a loving God watching over him, no matter how much Laura tried to convince him. She and her friends resembled a small cult and Andrew seemed to be the target of their affections, perhaps because he came across as a challenge. This aspect of the book was most believable, especially from the point of view of a reader who lives in an environment with many small, Christian groups.

Andrew as a character was entirely well-developed, due to his violently unhappy home life and his transference of love onto people and animals that can’t love him back. He took a lot of the brunt of the unhappiness in his home, and eventually was forced to live in a work shed on the property of the maintenance crew he worked for. “He used to be interested in his older brother, and then he wasn’t…They were like two would-be strangers peering at each other in the dark. Who is that? Oh, it’s you. “It’s me,” Andrew said to the stars.” (260).

Sara’s death in the end of novel was entirely crucial to the development – or non-development – of Andrew’s spirituality. While perhaps not everyone would agree, Andrew would have been inclined to find his faith a lot sooner and it wouldn’t have been as realistic of a life development. Sara’s coma was an extended metaphor for Andrew’s journey, and when she died, so did his drive and interest in Christianity:

The only light came from the stars and moon. It grew dim and bright, dim and bright, as the clouds shifted in the night sky. They were still and silent, lost in their separate thoughts. Marcia shivered. Then she giggled; she actually giggled. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh since Sara had died. “What?” he said, smiling at her. She looked at him slyly, a little like Sara. “I was just thinking about you and those Christian kids. I mean, at least you got some action this summer.” (316)

When I first read this book, I found the ending extremely anticlimactic. Andrew made no decisions about himself, his sexuality, or his spirituality. Upon further reading though, I found the final few pages of the book to be highly representative of not only the rest of the novel, but about finding spirituality itself. Coming to terms with death and faith isn’t always climatic. There isn’t always a big moment of clarity that changes the world completely. Sometimes it is longer, more complicated, and more uneventful than that. Perhaps this is what Cranse intended when she wrote this novel. Perhaps it was just a happy coincidence that stemmed from an unimpressive first novel.

Although this book was extremely interesting, the concept was better than the execution. Cranse writes better dialogue than storyline, which detracts from the overall readability of the novel. Andrew was likeable but it was difficult to connect with someone who was borderline creepy.

“Laura, I feel like I can smell your hair around the school, around our neighborhood. It’s like I’m always just missing you. I never know where you are, but I know where you’ve been. I love you, but you haunt me like a nightmare. When I’m an old man, I know that I’ll still dream about you.” (15)

Although this passage may have been sweet if Andrew and Laura had been dating, it was much less charming knowing that they had barely even spoken, let alone spent any time together. It was the combination of Andrew’s unhealthy obsession with Laura and Cranse’s undeveloped writing style that made this book one I wouldn’t need to read again.

After reading this review, you may ask why I kept reading a book that I didn’t fall in love with. Every so often, there were these illustrious passages that reeled me in just as I was about to walk away.

It was as though they were inside a ray of the sun. Everything was pale yellow. Everyone looked beautiful, desirable. Laura especially. A pale golden Laura lit from within. She sat next to Andrew with her hands gently clasped around one of his wrists. Like a human handcuff, or as though she were offering his hand to the sun. (210)

Cranse as an author is intriguing. This novel was a quick read that left me pondering my own spirituality and connecting with a complicated boy in a small world.

Cranse, Pratima. All The Major Constellations. New York: Penguin Random House, 2015. Print.