Sarah Aronson

Publishers Weekly

Former physical therapist Aronson adroitly tackles grim subject matter in this first novel about guilt, punishment and regret narrated by a newly quadriplegic teen. After drinking five beers at a party and getting behind the wheel, Frank is responsible for the accident that killed his girlfriend as well as an older man and that has left him a “head,” unable to move or feel any part of his body below the neck. Now, completely dependent on his sometimes resentful mother, all he can do is think about what he is missing, how the accident could have been prevented and how much the community hates him (he reads the angry, anonymous comments on a dedicated Web site). The author convincingly and wrenchingly depicts Frank’s state of mind as well as his daily struggles, ranging from his frustrations with his mother’s clumsy attempts to feed him to his fears of falling when his parents lift him to bed. His existence at times seems almost unbearably dismal, but salvation comes in the form of a physical therapist who encourages him to speak at his high school, at which time he is finally able to voice his emotions and opinions and perhaps also do some good. After the grittiness of Frank’s struggles, the success of the speech and a subsequent act of unexpected kindness seem quick and convenient, but close an otherwise dark novel with a glimmer of light. Ages 12-up. (Sept.)
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Children’s Literature

In this debut novel, Aronson draws on her experience as a physical therapist to describe what life is like for a teenager who decides to drink and drive. Now a quadriplegic, Frank also has to deal with the guilt of killing his passenger girlfriend and an elderly man crossing the street. The story is harsh, bleak, and depressing, as is fitting for the subject. While the first person narration contains some humor, it is dark and sometimes crude. The daily details of Frank’s struggle with simple tasks, mainly his reliance on others, is gut wrenching, as is his overhearing his parents fighting over the cost and hassle of taking care of him. The message about drinking and driving is clear and, sadly, so is Frank’s thought that in spite of his tragedy, teens will continue to do so. He does at least try to make a difference by addressing a high school assembly, which includes the mother of his now dead girlfriend. Reviewer: Kathryn Erskine

VOYA

This complex debut novel traces eight weeks in the life of Frank Marder, a teen who has been paralyzed from the neck down in a car accident. Readers quickly learn that Frank was the driver, that he was drunk at the time, and that he also killed a fellow student and a pedestrian. His life has mutated into a world where he must be fed, bathed, turned, and treated like a deformed stranger in his own home. Compounding the problem is the public nature of the accident. The media has covered the tragedy in detail, providing fodder for the community to express outrage. A mystery person even sponsors a Web site where people can post comments about the tragedy, most of whom ruthlessly condemn Frank without a hint of compassion. This novel evokes a profound sense of being buried alive. “Once I was a boy who became a man,” Frank observes. “Then I was a man who became a head.” Aronson, a former physical therapist, clearly uses her personal experiences to explore the helplessness that envelops Frank. He is morose and occasionally crude as he dwells in self-pity. Nevertheless the coarse language and brief sexual references are realistic and entirely appropriate within the larger story. This book would be highly suitable for discussions with male teens about justice and responsibility for one’s actions. An appropriate companion title would be Breathing Underwater by Alex Flinn (HarperCollins, 2001/VOYA June 2001).

Kirkus Reviews

“I’m a head,” declares 17-year-old Frank Marder, now a quadriplegic after downing five beers and getting behind the wheel. His reckless actions also killed two people, including his girlfriend. A judge thinks justice has been served, but on a public website, the community voices its outrage that Frank “walked away” free-except for one anonymous poster. Frank feels “frozen in time and space” until he’s asked to speak at local high schools about preventing spinal-cord injuries. “There are no fairy-tale endings, Frank,” his occupational therapist reminds him, yet as the teen faces the world again, his own culpability and the true identity of Anonymous, he finds hope and joy in the long, difficult road ahead of him. Although not as compelling as Terry Trueman’s Stuck in Neutral (2000), Aronson’s raw first novel delves into the emotions, mobility, daily functions (e.g., eating, talking on a phone and using a computer) and even the pleasures and sex of quadriplegics. Above all, it asks us to consider how we value individuals with disabilities. (Fiction. YA)