White Oleander

My aunt bought me this book for Christmas one year and at first I was really disappointed. I thought "Oh, that's nice... because I like to read you just got me the Oprah book club book of the month... thanks." But then I read it, and I'm now convinced that my aunt knows me better than maybe many of my close friends or better than I know myself. Not to be all cheesy and over-identify with something that isn't about me; but this book REALLY hit home for me in describing my relationship with my mother. This story is emotionally harrowing and beautifully told. The climax is gut-wrenching though subtle, and honestly made me cry. The movie didn't come close to doing any of this justice. This is one of those books that even if you had great show more parents, you can probably identify with, just because of how excellently the characters and story are rendered, and it's hard to believe that this author didn't live through anything like this herself. She makes a special point of noting in the preface (or back cover or something) that her and her mother get along great and are very close; to me that just makes this book more amazing because, well, damn. That's some powerful and realistic fiction. show less

“How many children had this happened to? How many children were like me, floating like plankton in the wide ocean? I thought how tenuous the links were between mother and children, between friends, family, things you think are eternal. Everything could be lost, more easily than anyone could imagine.”

Twelve-year-old Astrid Magnussen spends six years of her life in and out of foster homes (six foster homes and a state-funded home for those “returned”) after her selfish, manipulative mother, Ingrid, a free-spirited poet, is sent to jail for killing her lover.

Astrid’s feelings for her mother are conflicted. While her memories often take her back to happier times spent with her mother, Astrid cannot help but blame her mother for show more her present state and all the pain she has had to endure. In intermittent letters and the few visits with her mother in prison, Astrid recognizes her mother’s inability and unwillingness to comprehend the impact her actions have had on Astrid, to the extent that her cellmate wrote to Astrid telling her to only share happier moments in her letters as reading about Astrid’s difficulties makes her mother sad. Ingrid initially does not come across as repentant while sharing her accomplishments as a poet with her daughter, her poems being published and circulated while in jail, “a jail-house Plath“, also gaining a strong and sympathetic following in the outside world. Her response to her daughter’s hardships is for the most part devoid of compassion or concern and her biting wisdom borders on cruel , especially considering that she is writing her own child who has had her life and dreams taken away from her for no fault of her own.

“Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow. Never expect to outgrow loneliness. Never hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space. An intelligent, sensitive person is the exception, the very great exception. If you expect to find people who will understand you, you will grow murderous with disappointment. The best you'll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way.”

“You are too nostalgic, you want memory to secure you, console you. The past is a bore. What matters is only oneself and what one creates from what one has learned. Imagination uses what it needs and discards the rest—where you want to erect a museum. Don’t hoard the past, Astrid. Don’t cherish anything. Burn it. The artist is the phoenix who burns to emerge.”

Over the next six years, Astrid’s life is a kaleidoscope of loneliness, rejection, negligence, jealousy, violence and inappropriate sexual relationships tempered with a few moments of kindness and kinship– moments, relationships, and hopes that never seem to stick, only adding to her misery and her sense of abandonment and loss.

“How easy I was. Like a limpet I attached to anything, anyone who showed me the least attention. I promised myself that when she returned, I would stay away, I would learn to be alone, it was better than the disappointment when you found it out anyway. Loneliness was the human condition, I had to get used to it.”

As the narrative progresses, Astrid grows and learns from her experiences. In the process of understanding and interpreting the world around her she channels her energy and emotions into her own creative pursuits. Though she learns to harden her heart, she does not completely lose herself, as we see in how she interacts with fellow foster students and how in her own way, though not quite in the manner she had hoped, she tries to find her place in the world. In her journey of self-discovery she also comes to terms with how she truly feels about her mother.

“I hated my mother but I craved her.”

Janet Fitch’s White Oleander paints a heart-wrenching picture of a dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship. The white oleander flower, while of particular significance as a plot point in the beginning of the novel, is also symbolically woven into the narrative as it manifests-both in its beauty and its toxicity- in the human relationships so vividly described in this story. Written in 1999, this is the kind of novel that stands the test of time. Dark and depressing (some content might be disturbing for readers) but so beautifully written that it holds you in its thrall- the kind of story that stays with you. This is so much more than a coming-of-age story. With its brilliantly poetic and powerful writing, fluid narrative and memorable characters Janet Fitch’s "White Oleander" is a modern masterpiece. I hadn’t watched the movie because I wanted to read the book first. I might pass on the movie but will definitely revisit this book in the future.

“Nobody took me away, Mother. My hand never slipped from your grasp. That wasn’t how it went down. I was more like a car you’d parked while drunk, then couldn’t remember where you’d left it. You looked away for seventeen years and when you looked back, I was a woman you didn’t recognize. So now I was supposed to feel pity for you and those other women who’d lost their own children during a holdup, a murder, a fiesta of greed? Save your poet’s sympathy and find some better believer. Just because a poet said something didn’t mean it was true, only that it sounded good. Someday I’d read it all in a poem for the New Yorker.” show less

It took me forever to sit down and write this review. I never wait this long after finishing a book to post some sort of review. I’ve just given up and realized it’s impossible for me to do justice to the book. It’s a full 5 star rating from me, though not (yet?) on my favorites shelf, maybe because the ending seemed a bit truncated/rushed to me; I wanted to know a bit more.

This one wrecked me, it wiped me out, it was gut wrenching. I loved it. It’s my kind of book. Thanks to GR friend Caroline for periodically recommending that I read it. I’m glad that it’s finally off my too long to-read shelf and I’m glad I read it now, even though I had to temporarily put aside a few books I have commitments to read soon, some too soon show more to accomplish in time. It’s the second book I’ve read in 2017 that has helped me get out of my readers’ slump. I hope the next books I read are anywhere as close to engaging. It was a page-turner for me. The only parts I sometimes found dull were Ingrid’s letters to Astrid, but because of why I thought that was also smart writing.

The writing is gorgeous. I mostly appreciate the many complicated, realistic, interesting, and memorable characters, especially Astrid. Some of the circumstances seemed almost extreme (though still believable) but nothing about the characters rang false to me.

I loved reading how Astrid adapted to her many different circumstances. I think she’s a brilliantly drawn character. I worried needlessly that I wouldn’t be as interested in her as she ages, 12 to almost 18 and then beyond a bit to an unknown age but I think not much older, but it actually got harder and harder to put down the book the farther in I read. Each move turned into a whole other world. I rooted for and worried about Astrid all the way through.

The book is deeply melancholy. I found myself getting more and more depressed as Astrid goes through some of her placements. The main character has a highly unconventional upbringing even until age 12 and then experiences chaos and disruption from ages 12-18. Every placement I found interesting, only one would I consider more than barely tolerable. I was impressed and saddened by how she adapted to each place/group of people. I appreciated how she could often be so tender and generous with some of the other people she lived with in almost all her foster homes. Even for a foster child, some of the placements were notable for being unusual.

This is a great Los Angeles story. I have a San Francisco shelf and a NYC shelf. If I had a Los Angeles shelf, this book would go on it. I loved taking a tour through L.A. and the surrounding areas, including the rural areas.

At the end of my edition there is an interview with the author (with a link to the full interview which I’ve yet to read) and a list of discussion questions.

This would be a great book club book because there is a lot to think about and discuss.

Highly recommended for readers who like beautifully crafted novels, those interested in foster children, those who enjoy atypical coming of age stories, readers who like reading about dysfunctional families and family relationships, those who appreciate how art can be healing, and people who are familiar with L.A. and southern California.

Two of the quotes that I loved:

“The pearls weren't really white, they were a warm oyster beige, with little knots in between so if they broke, you only lost one. I wished my life could be like that, knotted up so that even if something broke, the whole thing wouldn't come apart.”

“How vast was a human being's capacity for suffering. The only thing you could do was stand in awe of it. It wasn't a question of survival at all. It was the fullness of it, how much could you hold, how much could you care.” show less

Loved this book. Heartbreaking account of what happens to a teenage girl forced into foster-care system because her reckless mother murders her lover. Astrid is bounced from one foster home to another with tragic consequences. Finch takes her readers into the insidious world of the foster-care system. It's beautifully written and painful to read, and I remember thinking how authentic the writing was on many levels. Finch nails the hopelessness and despair of what happens to children who are uprooted from a stable home environment and thrust into being 'wards of the state' with families who see them as disposable income.

"This was how girls left. They packed up their suitcases and walked away in high heels."

"It reminded me that there were snakes that stunned their prey with their breath."

"Crickets stroke their legs like pool players lining up shots."

Many years ago, I first watched White Oleander and decided that I would someday be a foster parent. The movie had such an impact on me and has stayed with me through the years.

How poetic and perfect it is that now is when I chose to read this book. My wife and I are currently learning more information about potentially adopting or fostering a child. This book is exactly what I needed at this time.

Astrid is 14 years old when her mother, a poet, is sent to prison for murder. Astrid is sent to her own prison show more - foster care. In the years that follow, Astrid bounces from one foster house to the next, thanks to a combination of bad decisions and even worse luck. The things she goes through are unimaginable and heartbreaking.

The writing in this novel is so unexpectedly lovely that it is what really drives it forward. The dark and tragic events that take place are a stark contrast to the quiet, lyrical writing style utilized by Fitch. The imagery and descriptions are so magical that they will punch you right in the gut. I'm the type of reader that is very plot-driven. Typically, novels like this with long, flowery descriptions tend to bore me and I find myself skipping over whole paragraphs. Not here. I was hanging onto every letter.

I absolutely loved this work. This isn't the kind of book that you will love so much that you want to scream it from the mountains and throw it at everyone you know until they start reading it. It's the kind of soft, quiet heartbreak that you want to hide under your pillow and cherish. show less

Due in part, perhaps, to the influx of "unfortunate teenage girl" novels in the mid-to-late nineties (I think here of books like _She's Come Undone_ and _The Virgin Suicides_), I avoided Fitch's book for a while (the Oprah's Book Club stigma also contributed). And while the story line did manage to keep me up and at it until 2 am last night, I must say: I'm unconvinced.

Also, spoilers. I don't review books to keep them a secret from people who haven't read them; I review them to share my opinions with people who have.

The heroine is a supposedly precocious 12?-year-old girl whose mother, jilted, murders her old lover using some pretty romantic and home-remedy style poisons. Astrid, the daughter, worships her mother based (as we find out show more later in a kind of tangental and almost unnecessary addition to the denouement) on some major abandonment issues. Her mother, Ingrid, a "poet", is wildly self-absorbed and disregards her daughter except when convenient. Fitch's job at the beginning was to show us Ingrid through Astrid's eyes, and while she does a decent job of alluding to some of the disillusionment that begins to blossom when we hit pre-adolescence, she never lays a real foundation for understanding or feeling of Astrid's desperate, almost hysterical attachment to her mother -- Astrid worships her mother's physicality (enormously sensual), her appreciation of aesthetics (somewhat Cali and cliche) and her poetry (just bad, actually).

After the murder, trial and subsequent imprisonment, Astrid is carted off to -- wait for it -- foster care! As the reader of any late 20th century novel knows well, this bodes the beginning of the "real" story. Because foster parents are all just terrible, messed-up people, either in it for the money or to fulfill some other need. Astrid trails destruction and debris through three or four various foster homes, developing complicated and doomed relationships along the way that only serve to reaffirm her abandonment complex. The only sympathetic person of color in the whole story -- a high-priced call girl named Olivia Johnstone who lives an impossibly rich life laced with jazz, jewelery and jet-setting -- establishes one of Astrid's oft-returned-to realities: "It's a man's world". And yet, Fitch riddles the female characters with so many intensely tragic flaws that halfway through the book one can't help but wonder if she's implying that women are too fucked up to make it a woman's world themselves. Each of the female role-models Astrid finds is almost a caricature of some fatal flaw: gluttony, hypocrisy, despair, lust, while the men remain either sensitive and helpless, or are acquitted of their manly appetites simply because they serve as a backdrop to the relationship between Astrid and the female...but if it's a man's world, and women act the way they do because of men, then why is it okay for the men remain unexamined?

Astrid learns the ropes, as the reader might expect, and in the end bargains with her mother to exchange her tweaked testimony (and potentially her mother's freedom) for tidbits about the past. By this time, so much has happened and Astrid has made so many streetwise decisions that it's difficult to see how the plumbing of the depths of her past (especially the whole thing about Annie...like, who cares? Whether Ingrid was there or not, Astrid was emotionally abandoned the whole time) will really resolve any of her conflict. The final result is simply that Astrid should probably see a therapist or five.

Final Pet Peeve: what's all this about California being a palpable presence in the novel? I won't deny that it was, but I've grown more and more conscious of the fact that there are two separate Californias and I have a hard time with LA authors who behave as though the only California is the California south of San Francisco. It just seems very short-sighted to me. show less

In this novel, the reader follows the pre-adolescent Astrid as she grows up in a number of foster homes. The world painted by Fitch in this book is dark one where no person and no thing is to be trusted. The reader sees a number of adults in Astrid's life who border from useless to downright harmful, whether it's Astrid's narcissistic biological mother Ingrid or the lovely but fragile Claire. I felt very engaged with the characters, cheering when something went well for Astrid, near tears when defeat hit her again, and frustrated when I saw Astrid self-sabotaging over and over again. Fitch has a wonderful gift for prose and writes each line as if it were poetry. This book is not for the faint of heart, but it is nonetheless a mighty show more feat. I'm not one hundred percent in love with the end of the novel, but I would still recommend it as an insight into the broken foster care system, and also for the novel's explorations of truth, beauty, and the human spirit's ability to endure. show less