How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“Things Happen and once they start happening you pretty much just to hold on for dear life and see where they drop you when they stop.”- How I Live Now, Meg Rosoff

“Every war has turning points and every person too.”

Fifteen-year-old Daisy is sent from Manhattan to England to visit her aunt and cousins she’s never met: three boys near her age, and their little sister. Her aunt goes away on business soon after Daisy arrives. The next day bombs go off as London is attacked and occupied by an unnamed enemy.

As power fails, and systems fail, the farm becomes more isolated. Despite the war, it’s a kind of Eden, with no adults in charge and no rules, a place where Daisy’s uncanny bond with her cousins grows into something rare and extraordinary.

But the war is everywhere, and Daisy and her cousins must lead each other into a world that is unknown in the scariest, most elemental way. 

Meg Rosoff lives in the same corner of my mind that several other American expat British writers live in. You'd be surprised how many there are, including Patrick Ness and Elizabeth Wein. My vague, sort of interest in her writing started when my old high school librarian mentioned that she was one of his favorite authors, and was recently renewed after reading Life: An Exploded Diagram, when I discovered while researching Mal Peet that she finished one of his books for him, kind of like how Patrick Ness wrote A Monster Calls. 

Oddly, for a tiny little book it took me forever to read. Kind of like how it took me forever to read On the Jellicoe Road. I had such a hard time getting into it that I was ready to dnf it and cut my losses, but I'm in a slump and don't want to admit it by not finishing books. 

Her writing reminds me of Elizabeth Wein's, likely because Wein has clearly been heavily influenced by her. As I've gotten older I've found myself growing out of that style of writing. Not necessarily stream-of-consciousness, per se, it can be done very well- after all, I consider the Modernists some of the best writers and they were the ones to start that type of narrative. No, I'm talking about the ALL CAPS, Certain Things Capitalized to Sound Quirky, crossed out words, and more. I mean, sure, I could forgive it if the book was meant to be written like a journal entry, but when it's presented as a typical novel, it grates on me. Kind of like how The Pearl Thief grated on me, come to think of it. I think authors maybe do things like that because it gives their characters the illusion of having a personality- if they write with all caps and no quotation marks when someone is speaking and capitalize things to make them sound like official titles, then the main character is automatically Spunky and Lovably Rebellious. 

Rosoff probably did this to make Daisy endearing, maybe because she realized that Daisy had to have some endearing, relatable qualities. Because Daisy's a pretty shitty human. She's anorexic (I'll come back to the poor treatment of her anorexia later) for attention, she hates people without any real reason to, like her stepmother, she's shitty to her father, and her lack of detachment as to what's going on makes me think of sociopaths. I mean, I get having a hard time emphasizing about an attack that happened a half a world away, but when you live in England, a small country, and the attack was in London, you still have to feel something for the people that died instead of dismissing it. I like to think I'm not alone in thinking this, and I don't think I am evidenced by all the people who reached out to Paris or Manchester or Orlando. Her detachment doesn't make her seem relatable, the way Rosoff probably intended for her to seem, it makes her seem cold, unfeeling. Again, sociopathic. 

The love story in this was kind of horrible. It wasn't that I was particularly bothered by cousin-cousin incest, since I knew that it would be about this and if I was extremely against that stuff being in fiction I wouldn't have picked this up in the first place. Besides, after enjoying Forbidden as much as I did I don't think I could get on a soap box about it, and frankly anyone who loves history as much as I do can't be that bothered by cousins kissing. 

No, my problem with Daisy and Edmond's relationship more had to do with the fact it was chemistry-less. I felt nothing for either of them, because they were just kind of smashed together. I mean, she mentioned feeling a few feelings, Edmond could read her mind, and then they kissed and I guess started screwing, but honestly they could have been playing Monopoly for all I knew. Sure, there were some references to how much they loved each other and snarky references on her part to Underage Sex, but that's all I got from their relationship. 

In fact, I had a hard time caring about anyone. I think that had something to do with Daisy's horrible narrative, how focused she was on herself, so much so I couldn't connect with Piper or Edmond or Isaac or Osbert, and I couldn't feel bad about Aunt Penn because I didn't know her very well. 

Look, okay, detachment can work really well in some cases. In fact, I thought about The Road a lot while reading this book. I wonder if Rosoff read The Road and decided she wanted to do a YA version of that book, but, needless to say, The Road blows her out of the water. In that book, the detached narrative worked well in showing how people can become so used to a horrible situation that atrocities don't phase them. In this book, I can't even argue for that interpretation because she wrote that way right from the very beginning, so Daisy came off as unfeeling instead of jaded like the Man in The Road.

Daisy's anorexia was as horribly done as the love story. It's treated casually, dismissed, and never really brought up. It's not a flaw, it's just something about her. This is approach is fine when it comes to a disability, like when a character is in a wheelchair or has one arm, but not with a serious mental illness like anorexia, that does in fact kill people. She makes remarks about how she likes doing it for attention, how she's getting fat and should start losing again, and how much she hates shrinks, and it seems like we should cheer her on for it, because of how endearing she makes it sound instead of serious. It just left a bad taste in my mouth.

With all this being said, How I Live Now had a really great idea behind it. I've always been fascinated by the effect war has on the everyman, especially total war like in both world wars. Some of my favorite WWII books focus on that, like My Family For the War, or City of Thieves or even the bits in The Diary of a Young Girl when Frank writes about rations and the black market. I was interested to see how Rosoff takes the idea and turns it into a contemporary seeming book, and I think she did it mostly successfully. She created a timeless story, which I always love. I mean, sure, there were references to gas cars and cell phones and email, but the first has been around for years now and the second and third aren't going away anytime soon, so I could see this book sticking around for a long time.

It also had a vague 1940s feel, which I did like, since I have a soft spot for the 40s- when I first started getting into YA historical fiction all I wanted to read about was WWII era fiction.

So, do I recommend this book? If you love Elizabeth Wein, go for it. In this book's credit, it does have some very pretty writing and I suppose to the right person endearing characters, but if you're annoyed by any of the stuff above, I wouldn't go for this book. Read The Road instead.

4.5 out of 10