Published by Dutton Books for Young Readers on May 26th 2015
Genres: Young Adult, Action & Adventure, Survival Stories, Love & Romance, Social Issues, Death & Dying, Family, Orphans & Foster Homes
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I’m the daughter of murdered parents.I’m the friend of a dead girl.I’m the lover of my enemy.And I will have my revenge. In the wake of the devastating destruction of the luxury yacht Persephone, just three souls remain to tell its story—and two of them are lying. Only Frances Mace knows the terrifying truth, and she’ll stop at nothing to avenge the murders of everyone she held dear. Even if it means taking down the boy she loves and possibly losing herself in the process. Sharp and incisive, Daughter of Deep Silence by bestselling author Carrie Ryan is a deliciously smart revenge thriller that examines perceptions of identity, love, and the lengths to which one girl is willing to go when she thinks she has nothing to lose.
Daughter of Deep Silence demonstrates how an author can tell you one thing, but show something completely different.
It demonstrates how a narrator can take centre stage, metaphorically throw her hands in the air and declare herself an unlikable and complex character hell-bent on revenge, but never give any indication that she’s anything more than an incompetent fool who lusts after a boy she believes is involved in her parents’ deaths.
People love them these days: the unlikable narrators. The complex individuals. The revenge-seekers. From Kill Bill to The Count of Monte Cristo to Black Iris, we just love it when an author can take a character we shouldn’t love and peel back the layers of their mind until we understand them and sympathize with them. I’ve given books high ratings for having such characters.
BUT sometimes, often in YA, authors cheat. They give us fake unlikable narrators that actually – when you take a closer look – never do or think anything the average person wouldn’t. Oh, you don’t care if the people involved in your loved ones’ deaths die? Well, whoop-de-doo, neither would fucking I. Oh, you harbor feelings of resentment towards the people that ruined your whole life? Goddamn, you must be evil.
It’s bullshit. Frances can say whatever the hell she wants about being all broody and vengeful but, in reality, all she wants is to get together with Grey – the guy who at best is covering up a mass homicide, at worst actually helped cause it. In fact, I felt the book breezed over the events of her parents’ deaths without emotion; the real feelings being reserved for when she’s in Grey’s sexy arms.
The book opens with Frances being rescued after spending seven days adrift at sea, following an armed attack on the Persephone in which her parents were killed. The only other survivors – Grey and his father – lie to the press and say it was a rogue wave that brought down the boat. Her friend Libby died on the raft before they were rescued and Libby’s father is the only one who will believe Frances’ story. So he encourages Frances to pretend to be Libby (coincidentally, they look alike), in order to avoid people coming after her. Four years later, Frances – “Libby” – returns for revenge. Or so she says.
Let’s look at the reality.
“Everything about me is perfected and polished, and thoroughly, thoroughly Libby.”
The reality: The very first time she really needs to pretend to be Libby, she calls Libby’s dad “Cecil”.
“The whole point of hosting this thing is because the Senator supported Cecil’s efforts along the coast.”
Shepherd stares at me for a long moment. “So you call him Cecil now?”
So you’ve perfected the art of being Libby but – oops! – you can’t even remember to call her dad “Dad”?
“The only brightness in the black I’d plunged myself into.
Another, darker word followed quickly after.
“But there’s another part of me that only cares that, after all these years, I’m finally in his arms again.”
“Rage is a powerful emotion. Strong enough not just to burn away the pain but also sear back the whispering tendrils of fear.”
“Yet, somehow, this is the situation I’ve found myself in. Desperate for him to continue loving the girl I used to be.”
And don’t even get me started on that part where she goes out alone at night to meet up with a guy she believes to be involved in a mass homicide. Shepherd expresses concern for her safety and she’s like “I’m badass, whatever.”
Revenge? Yeah, right. This is another angsty love story with a stupid heroine.