Carolyn Ferrell

Written in almost stream-of-consciousness, this novel is unlike any other I’ve read. At its heart, it is a story about three adolescent girls who are abducted and taken prisoner in a “Queens House of Horrors” for ten years. The author provides hardly any specifics of the torture and trauma the girls endure and relies instead on their inner worlds of pain and confusion to let the reader in on what is going on. That, though, is the point. We don’t need the nitty gritty break-down of show more each indignity detailed to know how devasted and emotionally eviscerated they are.

Each of the three girls’ background stories is where we find the most cohesion though still a bit disjointed. Their lives before the abductions made sense even if they weren’t perfect. They each endured their traumatic events but nothing close to what would come later; juxtaposing stories of before to pieces of understanding and mostly enduring each minute, hour, and day after.

Two of the girls are eventually rescued. Like much of the book, the details are scarce. The reader also eventually learns that one of the girls is not there. We don’t know where she went, why, or even when. The second half of the novel is focused on their recovery and how they navigate life after their release.

Interspersed are other’s stories as well. Again, told in pieces, almost like the reader is walking into a conversation halfway and trying to figure out what people are talking about. Characters include neighbors, police, a social worker, and the daughter of the girl who is missing, the only child allowed to be carried to full term in the abductor’s house.

This was a very unsettling novel told in a very unsettling way. It was inventive and disorienting. It provided ample opportunity to contemplate freedom, choice, resilience, love, and control. show less

Review of Uncorrected Digital Galley

“Soul Train” aficionado Fern, Prince devoteé Gwin, and precocious Jesenia have many things in common, including the decade the monstrous Boss Man holds them captive in his ramshackle house of torture. No one in the neighborhood knows any about this. And when rescue finally comes, there will be many questions . . . and far fewer answers.

Written in a style that feels largely analogous to stream of consciousness, the narrative ricochets between show more characters, places, and time with no warning of the switching for the reader. The result is as unsettling as the story itself.

Told largely from Fern’s point of view, the caroming story follows the three young women, showing each of their lives before and after their abduction and imprisonment at the hands of their sadistic captor. Although not explicitly described, the narrative clearly communicates the horrific torture and repeated rape endured by each of the three women.

It is not an easy story; rather, it’s one filled with trauma and cruelty laid bare before the reader. After turning the final page, readers are likely to find the women’s heinous nightmare continues to haunt them.

Loosely based on the true story of three Cleveland-area girls . . . Michelle Knight, Amanda Berry, and Georgina DeJesus . . . abducted and held captive by Ariel Castro, the unfolding narrative of “Dear Miss Metropolitan” is an intransigent look at the psychological effects of the captivity and torture experienced by each of the young women as well as by the neighbors who insist they’d known nothing about the women being held captive in the “House of Horrors.”

The plot reveals the vicissitudes of before, during, and after the kidnapping; the character development is the ramifications of their captivity, shown in their will to survive, in their rapport with each other, and, ultimately, in their relationships with the wider world.

The brutal story is dark and disturbing, heart-wrenching and evocative. And, despite its baffling formatting quirks, readers will find the narrative well worth the effort.

Recommended.

I received a free copy of this eBook from Henry Holt and Company and NetGalley
#DearMissMetropolitan#NetGalley show less

I usually don't gravitate towards books about missing people, kidnappings, abuse, etc, but this book seemed to have a certain special something to it - maybe this book would be worth all that negativity. Told in a unique format, this is the sad story of Fern, Gwin and Jesenia, teenagers kidnapped and held in a Queens house for a decade. More importantly, what happens after. Told in scattered chapters that somehow still make tons of sense with informative chapter titles, also including show more occasional photos. What I do appreciate about this narrative: it is not at all about the mysterious perpetrator - not wasting time making excuses for him. Also, the terrible horrible abusive atrocities are hinted at, but aren't entirely the focus. It's enough to let you know what these girls went through. It is far more about the resilience, memory, fortitude, persistence, survival and healing of these wonderful inspiring girls. They are linked through suffering and they remain linked afterwards. They are the ones that remain human after, and that is no small task. I like the writing skills here, and can't wait to see what Ferrell does in the next novel, which will hopefully appeal to me even more than these topics. But if I had to read these topics, this is the one I would prefer over other novels about abuse and kidnappings. It DID end up having that something special. Understandably, if you're not up for reading about such dark topics, Ferrell is certainly a writer to watch to see what she does in her next book. I will certainly be waiting. show less

My reaction to Miss Metropolitan was as fluctuating as Carolyn Ferrell’s writing style. At one point I found myself intrigued by the story and then, at the turn of a page, I was lost. I was particularly confused and thrown by the book’s title. What did I miss? I know Miss Metropolitan was a reporter, but she seemed such a minor character. Who was she really? I think I would have preferred a more straightforwardly written story. I would have enjoyed it more. On the other hand, the show more alternating stories told by the girls were disturbingly real. I’m from Cleveland and reading Miss Metropolitan, the real life story of Ariel Castro’s abduction of Amanda Berry, Michelle Knight, and Georgina DeJesus was never far from my mind. It’s frightening to realize that fiction can indeed be based on fact. show less