A new perspective on the effects of 9/11.

Fifteen-year-old Green was once a patient and quiet girl. She believed the future was a book of blank pages she could fill in however she wanted. Her world was as perfect as she could hope for, and she simply had to make her way through it.

She had a wonderful family--mother, father and younger sister, Aurora. Her father was strong. Her mother was gentle and intelligent. Aurora was beautiful and fearless. Green was a talented gardener; hence, the name.

They tended their garden daily, then traveled across the water into the city to sell their vegetables in the market. One day, they never came home.

Green had been angry and obstinately refused to speak to her family the day they made their final journey. Her anger at having to stay behind soon transformed into a deep despair and loneliness that she used as a shield when she realized they would not be returning.

Something horrible had happened across the water. The city had been forever changed by a tragedy that took many lives, leaving countless orphans such as Green, and covered her world with a thick blanket of ash.

Now, Green had no one and nothing to hope for. The only other living creature she had for company was her sister's dog, Onion. Other kids her age relied on alcohol and partying at an old shack in order to forget. Green just hardened herself to the pain and refused to properly mourn. Her tears remained unshed.

She became Ash and left Green behind. Covering herself in tattoos and clothing decorated with thorns and nails, she forgot what she once believed life was. She forgot herself. Ash slowly carved out a new existence. She abandoned her talent for gardening and focused on a new talent. Though her eyes were cloudy with embers, she could touch the earth and gauge where to find the river and feel sorrow in the wind (p. 42).

Ash also forgot that life has a way of taking over, and she found herself surrounded by creatures and people who subtly taught her that, just as the hawk needs to hunt and the dog needs to run, she needs to be Green.

In Green Angel, Alice Hoffman draws on the tragedy of 9/11 without actually naming it. She blends the events of that day with a sort of magical realism that could have almost been any period of time. In fact, I often felt as though I were in the Renaissance rather than the present. Maybe that was her intent. Either way, it worked, and her style put me in mind of one of my favorite authors, Patricia A. McKillip.

I'm not certain that anyone even vaguely connected to 9/11 will appreciate Hoffman's work here. There is an almost post-apocalyptic feel to Green's new world. Starvation leads to looting. Teenagers run wild in gangs, destroying property and stealing whatever they can. While generous people give their time, energy and anything else, others are ruled by greed.

Green's own refusal to accept her loss and move on ignites a sort of teen angst. She chops off her hair and covers every available space of skin with black ink, not just for the statement but also for the pain. This is not necessarily the ideal way for young adults to view the after effects of that fateful day. From reading other reviews, I've noticed there are those who don't catch the reference, but there seems to be an unwritten rule that the outcome of 9/11 was a nation of empathetic closeness. Green Angel gives a much different perspective.

I find myself on the fence with this one. I didn't like Green and felt no sympathy for her. Then again, she wasn't asking for any. I'm not quite sure that I, personally, approve of the approach taken in regards to the aftermath of that day. The world surrounding the events were shadowed by a sky darkened with ash, but does that mean everything about it became dark. . .emotionally and otherwise?

Of course, I'm not Hoffman's target audience. And perhaps those readers who do fall into the range of 8th-12th grade will appreciate what Green went through and how she handled it. They may be more likely to identify with her and agree that she had to be allowed to go through the stages of grief in her own way. Her downhill battle and slow emergence into a new day may seem more poignant to them than it did to me. I know my fifteen-year-old daughter loved this book. She's read it three times now and encouraged me to do so each time.

On the other hand, I am a fan of magical realism. I love the purple prose, the darkness and light and otherworldliness. On that level, I could enjoy every aspect of this book.

I'm thinking maybe the tragedy should have been a little less 9/11-like. I guess I'll give it a couple of stars off for that being the backdrop for such a largely bleak novel, but one back for the writing style.