Feral and sticky and messy and dizzy. 

For me, another successful (in a backwards way) patio and pages selection. 

Brutes is an ode to a certain type of girl. The girls who had their first cigarette before they had breasts. The girls who learned to drink Jack & coke because that was what was bootlegged. To the troublemakers. To the girls who are more spice than sugar. To the girls who belonged to the group and could be on the fringe the very next day. To the girls who grow up too fast and too slow all in the same moment.

This is one of the more challenging books I’ve read this year, not in terms of content, but in the ability to read what is written and read what’s not written all at the same time. 

Did I understand everything in this book? Absolutely not. Which to be a 13 year old girl that makes perfect sense, when some things make no sense while being perfectly logical. 

If you’re looking for a clear plot and an easily understood story, this is not the one for you. If you’re looking for a hive of thoughts, plurals told in singularity, and a story that requires purposeful attention, read this one. 

“We would not be born out of sweetness, we were born out of rage, we felt it in our bones.”