Cut

Interesting use of sort-of second person…can’t quite decide if it’s true second, because it’s sort of direct address to someone other than the reader. We are instantly drawn into the story of the main character, a girl who cuts herself and has been sent to an institution for help but refuses to speak to anyone at first. I liked the slow reveal of information and found Callie’s progression believable and her experience compelling. I wasn’t quite sure there was enough power in the scene where she finally talks to her dad, though. It’s the moment where she tells him basically why she’s been hurting herself. He seems to get off a little too easy, but maybe that’s okay—it is really just the beginning of her healing show more process, not the end, so maybe understated is better. But I did feel slightly let down that there wasn’t a little bit more there. show less

I'm trying to formulate my thoughts.

I read this book all in one sitting. I expected to because it was short, but from the very beginning it sucked me in and I just did NOT want to put it down. When I was forced to for a few minutes, I was rather irritated.

I love how it's basically all addressed to the therapist lady person. That just makes it... I don't know, so much more interesting. Not that it wasn't interesting to begin with. Cutting is an issue that no one ever talks about, or treats with disgust as opposed to addicts or anorexics, who are deemed sick or troubled. This is even addressed in the book, when the other girls themselves are freaked out by cutting.

What's really striking is how realistic it all is, from Callie to Amanda show more and to everyone else as well. Perhaps my opinion is rather biased, or maybe I have more of a right than anyone else to attest to the realism of this little novel. Either way I guess I have something of a unique take on it.

I'm pleased with the ending. I was scared that it would be too happy or too magical, but instead ended with a little ray of hope in a still-dark world. A happy ending wouldn't have done justice to the real world Callies out there, but Patricia McCormick did a very good job of showing that just because there aren't perfect happily ever afters doesn't mean that there is no hope either. show less

I didn't know what to expect going into this book. I had a brief encounter with the phenomenon of cutting in Laurie Halse Anderson's Wintergirls and I was surprised at the lack of compassion I felt then. I thought it was perfectly vile, selfish and fell under the blanket concept of "things that are done to get attention." I think the difference in perspective in the two books made all the difference for me. I did not like Lia in Wintergirls, and I just adored little Callie. Silly though it may seem, I was willing to try to understand Callie, because I felt she deserved it. Callie, however twisted it may seem, had a very sound reason for her self-inflected violence. It made perfect sense in her mind, even if it didn't to others. I cared show more so deeply for Callie that I was willing to set aside my prejudice and listen to her. Which is the very point of the story. I can admit now that McCormick's smack down smarted and made me feel a little ashamed. Kudos. I deserved it.

Callie's place within her family has taken on an almost wraith-like form. A little brother with chronic asthma, a very, very, very (add a few more verys) weak mother and a cowardly father make up what Callie knows as family. Her parents are so engrossed in their own self pity that they fail to notice that their daughter is fading, blending into the background so that maybe no one will notice that she carries a secret- she feels it is all her fault. Everything. And since she goes unnoticed, no one bothers to ask, so Callie never tells.

We all continually beat ourselves up over a certain amount of self made guilt that we harbor, believing that something is our fault, regardless of the truth. It would shock us to discover that were we to voice our account of our supposed wrongs, we would be the only one pointing the finger at ourselves. So much of what we perceive is imagined. I guess the balance lies in knowing when we've shouldered enough, and simply need to tell someone to relieve the pressure. For Callie, there was no one to listen, and the pressure grew until it was either explode or find an outlet that could release some steam. For her it was a simple cut, nothing major, just enough, to release the tension. My heart ached for her, not for what she was doing, but because she did what she did and no one so much as batted an eye.

This was such a tough story for me because, well, I'm a tough chick with the possibly equally self destructive ability of being able to tell the world to go to hell. I could never hurt me and I have a hard time understanding others who would willingly hurt themselves. I've felt helpless only a handful of times in my life. But I've always known what Callie did not, and that's if you scream loud enough, people are forced to listen. Callie didn't know that it was OK to scream because no one ever taught her to use her voice to defend herself and her own sanity. I blame her selfish, pathetic little snit of a mother who lacked the strength to care for both of her children at once and sacrificed the emotional health of one for the physical well being of another. To me that's almost a form of abuse.

I was grateful for the fairytale tie in that became the ending. Something good that came from outside Callie needed to happen. As great as it was that she made the breakthrough that she did, I would have felt a bit cheated if the story had ended with her still feeling detached from her family. show less

Callie is a patient at Sea Pines, an institution where they call all patients "guests" and all problems "issues." Her room mate, Sydney, is there for her drug issues - she's never tried a drug that she wasn't addicted to. Sydney has a nickname for everything. She calls Sea Pines "Sick Minds" and she calls Callie "S.T." - short for Silent Treatment. Callie hasn't said a word since she was admitted for cutting herself, despite the efforts of her therapist and members of her group. But she can only hold everything for so long, and a series of upsetting events leads to Callie opening up - and, just maybe, starting a road to recovery. McCormick's style is smooth and honest, as Callie addresses her therapist in her head, using a second-person show more voice that successfully moves the narrative forward without becoming melodramatic. This is a book that rings true and shows a real understanding for depression, addiction, and obsession. This story will move you. show less

I thought this book would be dark and grisly, since it's about a girl who cuts herself--and since there was some controversy about the book's subject matter. But I was immediately drawn in and thought the cutting was handled with sensitivity (and was not too gross). What surprised me is that, although the cutting is what landed Callie in residential treatment, her biggest problem is not talking. She's stuck in her misery, silent and alone, until she slowly works her way out.

The story opened my eyes a bit, as Callie's cutting was not the problem but a symptom of guilt and family dysfunction. I think this would be a good book for teenagers to read.

I read this book when I was around 12, and I really enjoyed it and have remembered it ever since, so when I came across a copy for 25 cents, I bought it immediately. I was so pleased to find that it was just as good 10 years later. It deals with serious issues that affect some teenagers today, and it does it in a way that is understanding and non-condescending. It ends on a hopeful note that I feel is very important for teens that may be dealing with the same problems.

an amazing book. Although I think it may seem to make light of a very serious issue with many teens (and adults - let's be honest here), I think some of these things are so intense and so frightening, that a book that is light (and hopeful) isn't always so bad.
Now, if you are someone who has/is (did/does) struggle with this, I think this book will only frustrate you. It does give the appearance that it's so easy to start or stop this disorder.
But, as a story touching on a possible taboo topic - I think it's very well done.