Graffiti Moon by Cath Crowley Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“I like that about art, that what you see is sometimes more about who you are than what’s on the wall. I look at this painting and think about how everyone has some secret inside, something sleeping like that yellow bird.”- Graffiti Moon, Cath Crowley

Lucy is in love with Shadow, a mysterious graffiti artist.

Ed thought he was in love with Lucy, until she broke his nose.

Dylan loves Daisy, but throwing eggs at her probably wasn't the best way to show it.

Jazz and Leo are slowly encircling each other.

An intense and exhilarating 24 hours in the lives of four teenagers on the verge: of adulthood, of HSC, of finding out just who they are, and who they want to be.

So I love art. I love looking at it, I love reading about artists, and I like it as a relaxation technique. I especially like the pop artists, the realists, the surrealists, and the impressionists, as well as some art deco and art nouveau painters. 

Yet despite my love for art, I don't particularly like reading books about it- except in the form of biographies or histories. I think it was Jandy Nelson's I'll Give You the Sun that really turned me off of YA art books. That one was so purple and dense with the deep healing powers of art the whole thing put a taste in my mouth akin to rancid syrup. I wanted to tell her to cut the cloying bullshit. 

And yet, I picked up Graffiti Moon, and, because of my shit luck with YA contemporaries lately, I expected a lot of rolling my eyes and sighing. Instead, I fell headfirst in love with this book, with its gorgeous prose and wonderful characters and witty dialogue that actually got a few laughs out of me. 

I thought the descriptions of Shadow's street art would be so convoluted and Ed and Lucy's love story would be chemistry less and boring. Instead, I found myself wishing Shadow actually existed so I could see his art, and really rooting for them to make it together. I loved Lucy's hobby of glass blowing and both of their relationships with their mentors. In fact, I loved all the characters- Jazz the psychic and Leo the poet and Daisy and Dylan who stayed together despite everything. 

In fact, when I think too much into this book, I'm not really sure why it worked for me. Maybe I should have hated it, taking off points for the bordering-on-purple prose and the power of art talks and the heavy symbols in the art descriptions and the unrealistic characters, but I couldn't bring myself too. It was I'll Give You the Sun, with the pretension and obnoxious metaphors boiled out of it into something far more accessible. 

Hell, with this book I even managed to find something beautiful in abstract work. Like Rothko. I can't stand Rothko; he's everything I hate in modern art. He reminds me of that Brideshead Revisited quote about how modern art is all great bosch. Interestingly though, I don't hate either Pollock or Mondrian. Normally, I would scoff at anyone who sees love in his work. But I liked that the characters in this book could see love in that, like they could see loneliness in tangles or street signs. I suppose that's what's wonderful about art. I'm sure some people scoff at what I see in my favorite artists, like the aching loneliness I find in Edward Hopper's work or the calmness I find in Monet's. Or hell, even the worshipful consumerism that is everything Andy Warhol. If they want to love squares on canvas or tangles the way I love soup cans or waterlilies or people sitting alone at bars, knock themselves out.

It's been awhile since I put down my reviewer glasses and just read a book. And it's been equally as long since I liked a book like that. Not everyone's going to love this book, but I sure as hell did. For some, this one may be a symbol of what everyone hates in YA contemporary, but for me, this sweet little Aussie book is the perfect summer read. I think something else by Cath Crowley might be popping up on this blog again this summer.

9 out of 10