The the Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt (Pan Macmillan)
The good news? If first-time authors can write this beautifully, we live in a wonderful world. The bad news? Oprah liked this book.
Usually a death knell for me. But maybe that’s a positive for you. Either way, Tell The Wolves I’m Home is a top 2012 read.
For 14-year-old June Elbus, the teen refrain ‘No-one gets me’ is quite true. No-one does. Her parents are busy with tax season (and unbelievably neglectful in my critical opinion), her older sister’s grown into a real bitch, and everyone at school is awful.
Thank G-d for Uncle Finn – talented, loving, exciting, beautiful and gay. (Gay gay, not happy gay.) But it’s 1985 and Finn’s dying of a disease that’s just starting to have a name, and that still has people refusing to use the same teapot as the afflicted.
In her desperation to deal with the eventual death of Uncle Finn, June accepts the overtures of Toby – a strange man who lingers just beyond the crowd at the funeral. And it doesn't take long for June to realise that she’s not the only one grieving.
Tell The Wolves I’m Home is a magnificent read, reminiscent of Edwin Wintle’s Breakfast with Tiffany but in a darker, sadder way. And the issues it raises are some I never considered (even as a savvy 80s brat who lost one of four guncles* to AIDS).
You simply must read this novel. Please.
* Guncle – Gay uncle; a must-have for every young girl, whether blood relation or not
Read more of Tiffany’s reviews on her blog.
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