Tell the Wolves I'm Home by Carol Rifka Brunt Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“Because maybe I don't want to leave the planet invisible. Maybe I need at least one person to remember something about me.”- Tell the Wolves I'm Home, Carol Rifka Brunt

In this striking literary debut, Carol Rifka Brunt unfolds a moving story of love, grief, and renewal as two lonely people become the unlikeliest of friends and find that sometimes you don’t know you’ve lost someone until you’ve found them.

1987. There’s only one person who has ever truly understood fourteen-year-old June Elbus, and that’s her uncle, the renowned painter Finn Weiss. Shy at school and distant from her older sister, June can only be herself in Finn’s company; he is her godfather, confidant, and best friend. So when he dies, far too young, of a mysterious illness her mother can barely speak about, June’s world is turned upside down. But Finn’s death brings a surprise acquaintance into June’s life—someone who will help her to heal, and to question what she thinks she knows about Finn, her family, and even her own heart.

At Finn’s funeral, June notices a strange man lingering just beyond the crowd. A few days later, she receives a package in the mail. Inside is a beautiful teapot she recognizes from Finn’s apartment, and a note from Toby, the stranger, asking for an opportunity to meet. As the two begin to spend time together, June realizes she’s not the only one who misses Finn, and if she can bring herself to trust this unexpected friend, he just might be the one she needs the most.

An emotionally charged coming-of-age novel, Tell the Wolves I’m Home is a tender story of love lost and found, an unforgettable portrait of the way compassion can make us whole again. 

I didn't think I would like this book. And I admit, it took me awhile to get into. I wasn't crazy about the main character, June, since she seemed kind of like your typical precocious child character (despite being like 14). 

I was feeling a bit discouraged about not liking it, to tell you the truth. I have been in a slump for the past month, and honestly haven't been in the best mental state either. So many books I had high hopes for ended up just ending up not being great (like A Good Idea, or City of Saints and Thieves, which I didn't write a full review for because I couldn't bear the idea of continuing on long enough to write a full review- I'll write about it more in my wrap-up). 

And then, when I was roughly like 50 pages in, Toby made his entrance. And the book started to improve dramatically. I kind of fell in love (though not romantically, if that makes sense) with Toby. He was so sweet and earnest and he cared so much about trying to make things work with June because Finn loved June and he loved Finn, and I just found him such an endearing character. Around this time, too, I found myself warming up to all of the characters, and fascinated by this family drama unfolding. The relationship between Greta and June, between Finn and Dani, and especially between Finn and Toby, as well as Finn and June. I also liked how real June's family felt. June and her sister had a believable relationship, and I loved how both June's parents (especially her father- fathers too often get villainized for no reason in YA works) also seemed like they genuinely were trying to be the best parents they could to their children. 

The actual subject matter also intrigued me. I've always held a fascination- I suppose you could call it that- with gay culture, especially in the 20th century and especially in the 80s and 90s. And the AIDS epidemic is something that couldn't have been ignored during that time. I believe that that disease is the reason the Gay Rights Movement made little progress until 2000s. During the 70s, the movement was picking up and gaining tons of support, and there were many celebrities who, while they still couldn't really be out and proud, were a lot more open about their homosexuality as they had been in decades past, and for many it was basically an open secret- I'm talking Truman Capote, Halston, Andy Warhol, etc. And then AIDS showed up and the public freaked out and because it began in the gay community (and there it claimed the majority of its victims) gay men were basically blamed for the disease. And, before I get angry comments, I'm not saying that all gay men have AIDS or that they're to blame or that only they can get AIDS. I'm merely stating facts about a conception that was commonly held during the time period. I could go on, but the point is that it was a horrific disease. My mother worked at an ER in a nearby major city and has so many stories to tell about drug addicted prostitutes with AIDS or other colorful characters showed up over the night shift, and remembers the strict protocols put in place about things like nosebleeds, something that used to be an easy fix but because of AIDS became a hell of a lot more dangerous-seeming than they ever were before. 

I could go on and on, but the point is, I think the reason why I latched onto that particular era in gay history is because of the tragedy surrounding it. I am attracted to tragedy in history; it's far more interesting than periods of prosperity. This all comes back to Tell the Wolves I'm Home because if there's one complaint I have, it's that Brunt seemed to have sugarcoated this disease. Even the parts at the end weren't really as horrible as AIDS really was- the disease basically attacked everything in your body. Still, that didn't stop me from enjoying this book. But other than that, the pain that surrounded this disease felt so real to me that I was surprised that the author had no personal connection to the disease, no friends or relatives (perhaps a brother) that died from it. Frankly, that's talent. I've read books by authors who have close connections to things like cancer or what have you and they still can't quite master the emotions surrounding these illnesses. Also, I liked how Brunt didn't use HIV and AIDS interchangeably. 

I really enjoyed the snippets we got about Finn from both Toby and June. I wanted more of Toby and Finn's story, because I found them to have been a really cute couple. Tragic and lovely- just how I like my love stories. For some reason, I'm usually not crazy about LGBT YA books, and I have read quite a few- Aristotle and Dante, More Happy Than Not, We Are the Ants, etc- and even enjoyed some of them, but I just can't get into their relationships the way I could get into ones from adult perspectives. Maybe it's because it seems like the relationships in those books are more about the characters' sexuality than they are about actual love and respect, whereas when the book follows an adult gay couple, it seems like their relationship is less focused on that and more about love. I can believe their love for each other, in other words. And I could definitely believe Finn and Toby's love for each other in this book.

Interestingly, as this book progressed, June took a 180 and I ended up really liking and relating to her. I could relate to her loneliness, to her loving Finn and even hating Toby because she wanted to be loved more than anything else by someone. As much as I loved Toby, I think I would probably hate him too under the same circumstances. Her relationship to her sister reminded me of my own relationship with my sister, though not necessarily by the end of the novel, and also the parts about her sister inviting her to parties and shit wasn't something I could particularly relate to.

This review was kinda everywhere and for that I apologize. Still, I think you should read this book. Seriously. It's a beautiful story about family and love and unlikely friendship and everything I didn't know I liked to read about until recently. It cheered me up despite this horrible month.

8.5-9 out of 10