*Free exchange for an honest review for MMRG under the DBML Program*


I must admit it was a struggle for me to finish this book. It may be because this was YA and I stopped reading YA when I turned 20. It might be because through the years I started craving complex plot and complex characters, and Conjoined at the Soul has none of that. Whatever it was, I hope it was only a "this was not for me" thing and the book was better than I saw it. There are many 4 and 5 stars reviews from people who appreciated the book, therefore I will not rate it because I don't want to affect the overall rating of the book for an opinion that represents the minority of opinions regarding Conjoined at the Soul and I want to invite you to read those reviews as well.

I wish the author and the editors of Nine Star Press paid a little more attention to character development. Most of the readers of Young Adult novels are teens and teens require books about believable role models, flawed heroes with endearing qualities they can either relate to or learn from, characters whose mental and moral qualities they might aspire one day to nurture in themselves. The MCs of an YA book should not be superficially constructed and neither the side characters that surround him, the parents, the friends or the colleagues. It’s even more important for an MC not to be superficial when he or she is representing a community who has struggled in the past to be accepted by society.
And perhaps this is why I couldn’t connect with any of the characters, from MC, to parents, to friends, to love interests. Everyone in this book was a superficial cardboard cutout of one cliché or another.

We were told the father was a racist and a xenofob: “And when he’s not railing about the Blacks, it’s the Mexicans, or it’s the Asians, you name it. And the worst part is he’s even been known to do it in public. Really, it’s so embarrassing.” Till the end that’s all the father ever was. Why was he a racist? Was he an ignorant, an imbecile, a construct of his community, maybe something he had inherited from his own family?
The brother was called “The Turd”, and we are informed he is very stupid and acts like a little shit.
“‘The Turd’” is kind of like that old nursery rhyme about snails and puppy dog tails. He’s got the intelligence of a slug, and he’s about as well house-broken as a Chihuahua.”
The mother… “My mom’s happy enough— as long as I fit in and don’t do anything weird to embarrass her socially.” - that’s all the mother ever is in this book.

Show, don’t tell - the writing rule says, but throughout the book we are told how the characters are instead of being shown what makes all these side characters tick. So in the end they have nothing special going on for them. They are duller than a horde of goblins in an RPG game.

Our hero, Randy Clark goes in the same pot. He is not very likable. He is not very smart. And I hope no teen ever considers him a role model for his way of coping with life. Why?

Randy Clark realizes on 17th of September 1979 he is gay. Then, from September to November Randy will turn from a 16 year old virgin to a little skank, sleeping around or doing some meaningless kinky stuff left and right, bagging under his belt as many people as months have passed. He is invited to an older colleague’s house for a friendly evening. That guys waits for him naked in the room and tells him to give him a blowjob: “Come on, you know you want to.” So Randy falls to his knees and does his thing. Then as the weeks progress, other stuff as well.
Then he goes out with a girl, and that girl jumps on him as soon as he parks the car and sleeps with him. Then there is this random guy from PE who asks him to jerk off together and he does it.

Kids! There is no competition for the highest number of partners or biggest number of sexual encounters. Respect yourselves and don’t give it away left and right. Don’t be Randy. Randy has no spine. Randy grovels like a dog just to be in the arms of someone who looks at a poster of a woman while he gives him a blowjob. And it’s not because he is in love with that person, but just because the sex is great. We are talking about the first person in Randy’s sex life so there is no way for him to actually compare and know if the sex is really great or not.
Don’t. Grovel. For. Someone. Who. Doesn’t. Respect. You! FFS!

“Hey, it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care. You can spend time with whoever you want. I can always find someone else to hang out with.”
“But I want to spend time with you,” I whisper. “You know, I’m… a fag— your fag. Do you want me to come over today?”
He smirks triumphantly. “Maybe tomorrow. I’ll call you. That is, if I’m not too busy, and if you’re sure you really want to.”
“I want to. You know I do.”
Gene walks out, and I slump against the wall, totally degraded. There’s no mistaking where things stand between him and me now. He couldn’t have made it any more clear. He’s only toying with me, and I’m heartbroken. He doesn’t care if I go out with a girl because the truth is, he really doesn’t care about me at all. If I’m not available, he’ll just find someone else. I guess I knew it all along. But even if it makes me feel empty and worthless to have to admit it, I’ve got to make him keep me somehow.

I’ve got to make him keep me somehow



No.

He learns his lesson in the end but by the time it happened I was already sick of Randy.

And Randy has terrible friends. Friends who at 16 behave like 10 year olds, have a mindset built by stereotypes, and give terrible advices.

This is what they say when Randy tells them he is gay:
“Now, don’t be embarrassed. I just mean I’ve had my suspicions about you for a while. You dress too well, and you’re always combing your hair. And you even like the Village People.”

This is what they say when he asks how to identify other gay boys:
“Now there are some basic things you need to look for. Like if he talks kind of girly, or sort of walks like a girl, it might mean he’s gay.”
"It’s all in the eyes. Eye contact and a lingering glance are the keys to identifying a gay guy."

Practically if there is a lingering glance or the boy talks girly or likes the Village People he's probably gay.

The book meant to be funny most of the time but some of the jokes were just flat:

"Annie erupts in a fit of laughter so violent I expect to see a lung fly out her nose."

“Hey, Clark. Can I borrow your tweezers when you finish jerking off with them?” Right on time. “Jamie, it must be so sad knowing you’ll never be the man your mother is.”

“As I walk back to my bedroom, I start to worry that I’m walking girly. Then I smile and wonder if the kind of thing Gene did to me is why girls walk like that in the first place.”



I wanted to love this book. I wanted to adore Randy. I wanted to be sad that this book had ended. But it wasn’t for me. ( )