When I was real girl…This book was so beautiful, authentic, elegantly written. Such a sad depiction of girls who have learned to hate themselves, and are trying to disappear, pound by pound, and their families struggle and denial. My hesitation is that the book is definitely rooted in language. It has a particular style that, though graceful and poetic, is not accessible to every reader. It requires a stretch for readers who like to have a story carry them, rather than a deeply introspective character who is trying to fool her family, herself, and, at times, her readers. Maybe that’s a good thing. ( )

The inside front jacket calls this Andersons' "most lyrically written book since Speak". And it certainly is lyrically written. I suppose this isn't a bad thing because it makes the story fast and easy to read; this lyricality "softens" the story/message in that it makes it less real, and more dream-like. I suppose given the subject matter (eating disorders) and the target audience (young adults) this is a good thing. They don't really want to see the "facts" of an eating disorder, they want to see the downward spiraling it causes.

Or do young adults want to see this at all? If one has/had an eaten disorder, they won't want to read this because it doesn't really try to deter one from this destructive way of life (sure, the main character is a mess, but so are those with this disorder, so will they see this as a mess, or as just how it is?). If one doesn't have an eating disorder, this book is just a heart-wrenching look at a self-destructive young woman... one that you can't help because you don't understand the nature of her illness.

In fact, the reader is never told the nature of her illness. Is she just hallucinatory? Is she insane? Which came first, the insanity or the disorder? What are the chances of 2 girls living so close to each other having similar (but different) eating disorders that are bad enough that they both (nearly) die? Seems convenient... but then again, I'm not the target audience nor am I familiar with the subject matter. ( )

‘…body found in a motel room, alone…’

Lia and Cassie, wintergirls. When Cassie dies, the duo is split, despite the yearlong gap in their friendship. Lia is left more alone than she has ever felt before.

‘…body found in a motel room, alone…’

Alone like Cassie must have felt the night she died, after calling Lia thirty-three times. Leaving thirty-three messages. Lia never picked up. Lia never called back.

After Cassie’s death, Lia spirals down more and more obsessively into her eating disorder, into memories of Cassie, seeking answers, shedding pounds.

Wintergirls is a novel of raw intensity and passion, written in lyrical prose. ( )

Warning. If you have a past history of self-harm of any kind (including cutting/eating disorders), this book will most DEFINITELY be a trigger for you.

That said, it's one of the best books I've ever read on the topic of self-harm within fiction aside from Francesca Lia Block's works that contain vivid recreations of such moments.

This book is a trigger, yes. But it's also a very healing book, and I can't recommend it more to those who have let go of harming themselves, or to those who are still fighting to get out from under its spell. This book talks about, very eloquently and competently, about what it's like to be in a self-harming girl's head and all of the constant second-by-second choices and the racing thoughts in daily life.

In terms of non-fiction fiction-type books that were published this year, this one easily wins best book of the year in that genre.

Yes, it's a painful read. It's a very painful read. But I found that once I finished it, all of the old wounds that had been opened were quieter than they'd been in years. I felt a little more at peace with my self-harming past than I had before opening the book.

Thank you for writing this book, Ms. Anderson. No doubt you'll help educate and heal a lot of hearts on this subject that's the elephant in the room for Western culture. ( )

Tough read. ( )