The Infinite Pieces of Us

I don’t always blog about books I don’t like. Sometimes I DNF a NetGalley title, but I don’t feel any desire to write about why it wasn’t for me.  But in this case, this novel came really close to being great. The Infinite Pieces of Us tells the story of teenage Esther, whose family moves from Ohio to New Mexico to start over after Esther’s shameful teen pregnancy and the daughter she gave away. In the city of Truth and Consequences, NM, her stepfather tries to bring the family grows closer to the church while homeschooled Esther wants to make friends.

I don’t know if it’s my NYC / Boston background, but I was constantly struck by how much unattended space there was in Truth or Consequences. Esther’s new house is big enough for a pool, that’s left empty and unused, as a fairly heavy-handed metaphor. There’s an abandoned Blockbuster, artistically redecorated by the kids who use it as a secret clubhouse and call it Heaven in another fairly heavy-handed metaphor. There’s also a massive Jesus statue, overlooking the town, and the teenagers climb up and sit in the hands of Jesus, in possibly the most heavy-handed metaphor possible.

The story is meant to be about redeeming friendships, which is pretty much my favorite theme (Not just in YA novels! Give me a transformative, meaningful friendship over a romance anyday!). But Esther’s friendships were too easy to feel honest. There was an unnatural lack of teen awkwardness. Skinny dipping, kissing, easy I-love-yous and immediately shared secrets contrasted with the attempts to make the teen friends seem like Quirky Originals.

Also, the teenage dialogue seemed overdone. Somehow it misses both the raw intensity of actual young adult conversations on life and meaning, as well the lighthearted banter of real friendships. Whether it was Hannah explicitly asking for the same attention her sister Esther gets, or Jesus turning every noun into a dick joke, the dialogue felt like a first draft.

Finally, Esther’s sister, Hannah, also has a secret. It’s the least surprising secret in the history of secrets, and I kept hoping that all the super obvious hints were red herrings and a great reveal was coming. Nope. The youth pastor who was way too into teens and the girl who keeps going to extra choir practices (for the special show, that no one else is in) weren’t cooking meth or running a spy ring together, it was much more obvious.

Intrigued by the themes? Just skip this one and read The Book of Essie instead.