Please Note: In order to adequately review this book, I’ve had to include a few spoilers.

Thirteen year old Melinda Sordino is starting high school as a social pariah. The summer before her freshman year, she called the police at a party that got out of hand, earning her the reputation for being a snitch.

What no one knows, and what Melinda herself does not admit until more than halfway through the book, is that she was raped at the party. She called the police out of fear and confusion, but when they arrived, she panicked and ran.

Now she wanders alone through a high school laden with complex social networks. Unable to find a niche, she is a detached observer who keeps herself company with a cynical running commentary about herself, her peers, and the absurdities inherent in school life.

However, while her mind is alive with ideas and observations, she does not speak. Day by day, she slips further away from family, from old friends, and from any semblance of her past life.

Then, her ex-best friend Rachel starts dating The Beast—the boy who raped Melinda. Melinda knows she has to find her voice again…or risk watching Rachel become another victim.

Style of Writing

The story is written in first person from Melinda’s point of view.

Melinda is a compelling narrator whose descriptions of her high school are laced with sparkling, broken-glass sharp witticisms.

The following paragraph, for instance, describes one of her teachers:

My English teacher has no face. She has uncombed stringy hair that droops on her shoulders. The hair is black from her part to her ears, and then neon orange to the frizzy ends. I can’t decide if she had p*ssed off her hairdresser or is morphing into a monarch butterfly. I call her Hairwoman.

Short paragraphs and chapters make this a good bet for reluctant readers.

What Works

The humor in the book is delightful, as are sly pokes at censorship and extreme political correctness. During the course of the book, for instance, the school is forced to change its mascot and team name three times because of protests. (Trojans has too many associations with the condom; Tigers are an endangered species and should be respected; and Wombat costumes are too expensive.) As the book ends, the principal is pushing for yet another name change after the cheerleaders start calling themselves the “Horny, Horny Hornets.”

On the serious side, Melinda’s status as outsider is heartbreakingly convincing. Even as she tells the reader she doesn’t care about her exile, we know she hurts—and we hurt for her. Also convincing is Melinda’s self-imposed silence and her struggles to find ways to communicate.

In one of the most powerful scenes in the book, Melinda finally gathers all her nerve and writes on the heavily graffiti-ed bathroom wall, “Guys to stay away from—Andy Evans” (her rapist). When she returns a few days later, she discovers other messages under hers: “He’s a creep.” “He’s a bastard.” “Stay away!” “Call the cops.” Her sense of empowerment is wonderful to witness.

The book also sends a powerful message to rape victims that being raped was not their fault and that help lies in reaching out, not in retreat.

What Doesn’t Work

When Ms. Anderson allows Melinda to have her own voice, the results are astounding. When she imposes herself as author, the results are annoying. Some of the symbolism is eye-rollingly heavy-handed. For instance, Melinda spends her entire year in art class drawing trees in various states of death and rebirth. At home, one of the trees in her yard develops a disease and has to have the sick parts cut away. (Get it? Get it? The tree symbolizes Melinda’s healing. Cool, huh?)

Similarly, Melinda’s art teacher is the only member of the faculty at her school who speaks his mind and refuses to follow convention. His name is Mr. Freeman. (Get it? Get it? He’s a free man. Cool, huh?)

Another weakness in the book is that every character except Melinda is a shallow stereotype: the status quo-challenging art teacher; the obnoxious gym teacher; the not-too-bright principal; the fighting parents; the “Marthas,” a mean-spirited clique of Martha Stewart clones; even the rapist himself is nothing more or less than your typical arrogant jock. A piece of this may simply be Melinda’s hard-edged way of seeing the world. But another piece feels like timidity on the part of the author.

I also believe the ending is contrived and betrays the honesty of the rest of the book. Melinda’s rapist unaccountably attacks her again, and this time she is able to fight back, call for help, and escape unscathed. In a comic-book revenge type sense, I was glad to see Melinda have a chance to clobber the jerk. In real life, however, very few rape victims have the chance to re-live the attack and emerge as victors. They must find other ways to heal. Another author in another book might have been able to get away with this, but Speak has been so painfully real up until this sequence that the device costs the book major integrity points.

Family Reading?

Speak is written and marketed for the young adult audience (ages 12-18). It contains strong language—but nothing your children haven’t heard before if they go to school—and implied sexual violence.

It appropriate for young readers, although ideally parents and teachers will be on hand to address questions and concerns.

Summary

Despite its problems, Speak is worth reading for its delightful narrator and for its efforts to tackle a painful issue faced by an unfortunate number of teenage girls.


Recommended: Yes