REVIEW: HOLD by Rachel Davidson Leigh

REVIEW: Hold by Rachel Davidson Leigh (October 20, 2016); 270 pages. Available from Interlude Press/Duet Books here.

As a poet-turned-fictioneer who is also crazy about crosswords and prone to avalanches of language when emotionally moved, I was drawn immediately to Hold by Rachel Davidson Leigh for its slippery, too-full, deceptively simple title. “Hold” can mean a lot of things—it’s a verb and a noun, and it can mean “grasp” or “detain,” “contain” or “remain secure.” I think, in this novel, it comes to mean all of those.

In simplest terms, this is the love story of high school kids Luke and Eddie. It’s a schoolmates-to-friends-to-boyfriends story at its heart: there are other love interests, dangers, and intervening concerns that threaten to keep them apart, but the reader knows at their first meeting that they belong together.

Luke is a high school student who has just returned to school after a long absence to mourn the death of his younger sister. When he returns, he finds high school life has moved on without him. He also finds a new kid who’s appeared during his absence, Eddie, popular guy, smiler, lacrosse player and—before long—love interest. One thinks of that phrase “to put on hold,” as in, “Luke’s life has been put on hold while he left school and mourned with his family, but now he’s back and trying to get his life un-stopped.”

It’s the not-so-simple terms that really draw on facets of “hold,” though.

For one, Luke discovers that he has the strange power to freeze time and everyone in it—a “hold,” he calls it—and this is in part the story of a teenager discovering his power and figuring out what to do with it. That motif is why, I think, superpower stories are most interesting in teens—it’s a super-magical magnification of what “normal” young folks go through. In fact, there’s lots of lore about powers (like psychokinesis… think Carrie… or werewolfiness… think Ginger Snaps) bubbling up in girls at the advent of menarche (the start of menstruation). Many cultures have histories of sending teens out into the wilderness (my mom used to threaten that, but I think she meant it differently) or staging other coming-of-age rituals (think quinceañera, confirmation, bar/bat mitzvah, sweet 16 celebrations, or even the conferral of voting rights in the U.S. or alcohol-drinking privileges in much of Europe).

What I mean to say is that the moment (teenhood) is fraught, a time we both fear (think of those roving bands of “wilding” teens in the news a few years back) and desire (need I bring up Springstein’s “Glory Days”?).  Hold sets itself right down in the middle of that mess: high school kid learns to manage his newly-found superpower while resolving a bully situation (a jerk called Wes), loving his best friends Dee and Marcos despite difficulties (for two, Wes is Dee’s brother and Luke has a crush on Marcos), and struggling into first love with Eddie.

It’s also a story about gossip, and the kind of hold it can have over people (see? there’s that word again). When word spreads that Eddie has a gun (and no spoilers here, but the kid isn’t exactly Capone), things start to really spiral, from whispers and ostracism to real dangers, like cops and more guns and rooftop escapes.

So “hold” is about wanting to grasp onto people (a new love interest, a sister who’s recently died, one’s friends) and grasp onto a moment (the innocence of pre-adulthood, before the fall). It’s about wanting to remain secure at a moment when everything seems to be shifting, and when guns start rumbling around the edges of the plot. It’s about the desire for detention (for holding back) and the desire for containment (for being held), for safety and for everything to just slow down and let me catch up already.

It’s a nicely complex story that’s still easy to follow and easy to get sucked into. I tore through this one almost nonstop, because I loved the world so. I’d decide to read a bit, and when I looked up, hours had somehow passed and my dogs were doing the Pee Dance and yelping to be taken out already. It was almost as if time had stopped, and I got to keep reading while the rest of the world was on hold.

 

 

 

 

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Not Dead, I Swear

I just this afternoon decided to post an update here, since it has been a while, and to my horror, I have discovered that my last post was made in October 2016.

Okay, I have excuses. Mainly that I moved from Brooklyn (my home city for more than twenty years) and my apartment there (in which my wife and I lived for 16 years) to a quieter, greener pasture (and a big house with no other tenants) about an hour and a half north of Brooklyn.

Also, I wrapped up my final semester of being a college professor, which has been my life for–also–more than twenty years. I taught my final semester this past fall. I miss it and don’t miss it at the same time. (I do miss having people listen raptly when I speak…I’m a middle-aged fat woman, so under which other circumstances is that likely to happen for me? It doesn’t help that I retired reluctantly and prematurely mostly because my extemporaneous abilities have declined significantly, due in large part to the nasty tricks of Multiple Sclerosis, which makes teaching–at least the way I’m able to do it–almost impossible. I miss my mind as much as I miss having people respect me for my mind.)

Point is, my life has changed radically–mostly for the better, though I still sometimes feel wistful for my grimy, inconvenient, congested, highly-peopled life in Brooklyn. I’m a city mouse at heart, so where I am now feels like the country (though most people would probably disagree…but my neighbor has a tractor and my other neighbor raises ducks, and as soon as there’s farm equipment or non-dog/cat animals involved, that’s the country to me). It feels far too easy a life–even getting to a grocery or hardware store in my new town requires far less planning, energy and effort than it did in Brooklyn. Which, I recognize, is a stupid sentiment–there’s no valor in hardship; anyone who’s suffered not by choice will tell you that. But I can’t help the little creep of guilt and disappointment in myself at how easy I have it now.

Anyway, as I am more wont to do out here without the constant and senseless pressures of the honking, smelly, angry city to which I’d grown accustomed, I’ve wandered from my point. My point in writing: I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole of being stupidly busy with moving and then being stupidly tired from it, and have neglected what I really like to do (read and write). But I’ve got my new office mostly set up now, my books are all unpacked and in place, and I’ve figured out the proper way to make good tea with the water out here (it seems to require more tea leaves/bags than it did in Brooklyn… is this a thing with hard water?)

All this is to say that (1) I’m not dead as far as I know and (2) I will be back to posting book reviews and essays in this space right soonly. I’m happily making my way through Rachel Davidson Leigh’s novel Hold at the moment, which is a really lovely sci-fi (speculative fiction? alternate reality?) story about a guy who discovers he can freeze time, and I have a stack (okay, more of a virtual stack) of new novels waiting for me when I’ve finished that one.

Please don’t give up on me yet. I’ve got reviews and essays coming soon, I promise. It’s just that I find myself moving much slower, much closer to a reasonable speed of life, now that I don’t have the red amphetamine of NYC ramping me up into constant insomnia and fretting.

And that is a fact about which it’s clear how I should feel (relieved), but about which I’m not sure how I do feel (is it weird that I miss it a bit?). Not sleeping was bad for my already-teetering health, but made me much more productive.

We shall see, though: perhaps I am slower out here, but my thinking will be deeper and clearer. We’ll all find out soon enough.