Sylvain Trudel

Reviewed by Jaglvr for TeensReadToo.com

MERCURY UNDER MY TONGUE is not a book for the weak of heart. It is a powerful story told through they eyes of a seventeen-year-old boy dying of bone cancer. Frederick Langlois is in a Canadian hospital. He knows he is dying and is doing what he can to survive.

Frederick's family comes to visit, but he has little to say. Instead, he has thoughts inside his head of what he would prefer to say to them. He has gone so far as to write letters to each member of his family. His plan is to have one of the survivors on his floor mail them off on the one-year anniversary of his death.

His only solace is the poetry that he writes, but shares with no one except a fifteen-year-old leukemia patient, Marilou. The poetry shows another glimpse into Frederick's thoughts as he faces his final days.

Mr. Trudel writes a sad, moving story of a boy wanting more out of life than the hand he was dealt. Frederick shows anger, regret, love, joy, and, against his better judgment, acceptance, as his time draws nearer to the end. He rarely shares his pain of cancer with the reader, but there are snippets of the discomfort that he struggles with on a daily basis.

The story is translated from its original French but still flows beautifully and eloquently. If nothing else, Mr. Trudel's work will make you glad you are alive, and want to live the most in each day.… (mehr)

Frederic is a 16 year old boy who has end-stage bone cancer, and he spends his last days in his "bachelor pad" on the hematology/oncology ward of a hospital in Montreal. He is frequently in pain, and the few friends he has on the wards are too consumed with their own morbidity to provide him with much solace or understanding. Frederick's poetry does provide an escape, and it links him to a beautiful girl there who is battling leukemia. His family visits him infrequently, as he simultaneously seeks their comfort and pushes them away. His aloof manner hides a fear of the death he knows will come soon.

He is filled with angst, and his irrational rants followed by brilliant insights into himself and others rings true. His prose flows poetically, although it is frequently searing and acerbic:

"I haven't said anything about the most hideous days, the days when the pain rips me open and leave my eyes scalding and glassy, my face decomposed, my bones bare and my forehead greasy and my dirty hair clings to it like seaweed and my damp pajamas stink of sweat. When the nurses come to turn my bed upside down so they can bleach the sheets in which I've sweated blood and lymph, I'm always afraid they'll discover a Turin Shroud that would dehumanize me, like some kind of Easter Sunday, like the resurrection of Christ who spoiled everything by easing the pain of the Passion, by canceling the sacrifice of Good Friday."

This was an tough but honest look into the mind of a teenager who realizes that his life will end before it has begun, and is highly recommended.… (mehr)

When I was a teenager, I was very into depressing books about depressing things. And perhaps if I was still a teenager, I would have liked this book too. But I'm not, and I didn't. Not only is this book horribly depressing (it's about a 17-year old boy in the hospital dying from bone cancer), but it uses one of my least favorite literary techniques: stream of consciousness. He's already come to terms with his own death, so there's not a lot of existential wrangling going on, just imaginary conversations with his family and a few glimpses of life in the hospital. And teenage angsty poetry. If you're interesting in knowing what's going on in the head of this particular fictional dying teenager, this is the book for you. But if you're actually looking for a good book or compelling writing, skip it.… (mehr)