Nothing to See Here

If I were to judge this book by its cover, I would expect 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘦 to be quirky, funny, and weird. And it is all those things, but it’s also powerful, profound, and poignant. You might think that a book about two kids who burst into flames when they get agitated would make it hard for you to suspend your disbelief and fully immerse yourself in that fictional world; but it’s a testament to the writing that spontaneous combustion becomes less a novelty than a study in self-preservation, a conflagration of fear and betrayal and shame and abandonment.

The stepmother of the combustible twins is Madison: beautiful, wealthy, privileged, and, in my opinion, manipulative and selfish. She’s married to a man who’s about to become secretary of state and who can’t have his kids bursting into flames at inopportune moments. Madison arranges for Lillian, her roommate from boarding school, to be their caretaker.

Lillian and Madison have a complicated history. Lillian won a scholarship to the school and was best friends with Madison until Madison’s father paid off Lillian’s mother to have Lillian take the fall for the drugs Madison kept in their room. Lillian got expelled and never lived up to her promise; she moved into her mother’s attic, where she spends her time smoking weed when she’s not working shifts at the grocery store. Now, more than ten years later, Madison’s letter lights a fire under her, so to speak. 

Fire is a metaphor for so many things: burning desire; rage and destruction; the embers of a relationship; the ashes of what remains; and, finally, fire as an opportunity for regrowth. I’ve got a hunka hunka burning love for this book.