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The Sky is Everywhere - Jandy Nelson


The Sky is Everywhere - Jandy Nelson

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Grief is a house
where the chairs
have forgotten how to hold us
the mirrors how to reflect us
the walls how to contain us
Grief is a house that disappears
each time someone knocks at the door
or rings the bell
a house that blows into the air
at the slightest gust
that buries itself deep in the ground
while everyone is sleeping
Grief is a house where no one can protect you
where the younger sister
will grow older than the older one
where the doors
no longer let you in
or out


The Sky is Everywhere is a book about grief, about growing up, and about love and heartbreak. Love for a sister who is no longer there, love for the boy who knows her grief, and love for the other boy who makes her feel alive.

Lennie (John Lennon) is a girl who has drawn inward since her sister died, turning from introvert to a kind of hermit, refusing to change anything about the room she and her sister shared, which she has aptly named The Sanctum. She writes little notes about her thoughts and feelings towards and to her sister, keeping her alive that way. Toby, her sisters boyfriend is the only one who understands her grief, or so she thinks. They are drawn together in a messed up kind of way, trying to fill the emptiness inside their hearts. Then Joe comes along. Lovely, spirited, beautiful and exciting Joe. He crashes into Lennie's life and everything is turned upside down, inside out. 

All the characters, main and sides, are well described, both in appearance as in mindset. None of them are without flaw and all have a deeper layer to them. I loved them all to be honest. 

All in all, I liked reading about Lennie's journey and the description how grief can influence someones life and how the workings of the heart and the love it holds not only define a person, but can help them change and move on.


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Stenenkring Lopend door het landschap van vroeger - over uitgesleten paden - vergeet ik heel even wat nu is, wat mogelijk komt of nooit zal komen. De wachters, ze wachten. Zwijgend aanschouwen ze de jaren, de eeuwen die voorbij gaan. Ze staan, getekend door de tijd. Nietig, in de wetenschap dat ik verdwijn en geen spoor zal achterlaten van mijn zijn, betast ik hen en verwonder me. Wij tellen, maar vertellen niet meer. Berekeningen gemaakt door machines, nauwkeurig vastgelegd; te vroeg, te laat tot op de seconden. We zien met ons verstand. We bouwen, breken af en vergeten.   Zij staan nog steeds geschakeld, in een kring van verloren betekenis. Ik luister, ik streel ze, ik heb ze lief.