Wow. McCormick's Sold was awesome in a painful, moving way. I am stunned at the depth and complexity of this simple-in-format text. While perhaps seemingly simple in structure and language, the breadth of emotion embedded within is breath-taking to me. Wow squared. I am all at the same time touched, appalled, disgusted, angry, sorrowful, moved, and blown away by the humanity of this piece. It literally hurts to think about the story within, but it hurts necessarily, and ultimately, for good, I hope. I have always struggled reading stuff about people hurting people because of an overwrought superhero complex I carry in my chest. When I read such things, I want to fix them.
However, I can't fix it. So, instead I read it and have to "accept" it for what it is: humanity's ugly. It never ceases to surprise me how little one human life is actually worth in the world. 10,000 rupees, right? Well, at least to Mumtaz. Lakshmi was worth even less to her stepfather. While I get the perceived economics of male vs. female child in underdeveloped societies, I don't get the inherent inhumanity of it. I'd like to chalk it up to lack of education, but sometimes it's just ugly? With a global population fast approaching nine billion, how do we ensure people are valued more and not less? I don't know.
Sold was hard to read for its themes but beautiful in its poetic language and imagery. I liked the series of vignettes as opposed to straight prose. It seemed to fit the consciousness of her character. Her constructions were simple, but the depth and complexity beneath suggested an illuminated fullness. For example, the last lines nearly bowled me over emotionally: "My name is Lakshmi, " I say./"I am from Nepal./I am fourteen years old." These simple words belied the aching facts behind them, and as a repeated element, it worked like gangbusters for me as an ending pang. McCormick created a memorable and masterful ending. Heck, she created a memorable and masterful read, period. The format allowed for a fast reading, yet it was easily broken into smaller sessions for me. I was able to read some, put it down for a bit, and then return with little or no time spent "reinserting" myself into the narrative. I liked that.
For the most part, I am left feeling haunted by this book somewhat, and some of the stuff I sort of wish I didn't have in my head currently. The chili pepper punishment is surely something that will haunt me for a good while. I am continually shocked at how cruel we can be to each other as humans, and this adds more proof I won't soon become numb to shock.
I am glad Lakshmi was saved in the end, but I feel somewhat hollow knowing she is mostly an exception and not the rule. And sad.
Erin - you really captured the way I felt about this book! I had a mush harder time expressing it, though. I felt a little at a loss for words when I finished reading. As I read over your comments, I am reminded of the way I felt when I read Night, by Eli Weisel. Same kind of shock about what humans are capable of doing to one another. And I read it with my 10th graders. Not really interested in doing that again, although I see the merits of these kinds of books. Like you said - it's hard to read, knowing this really happens and not being able to DO anything about it....I guess as teachers what we DO is we get to bring these issues to light by reading and discussing them with our students - hopefully moving them emotionally and touching their hearts deeply so that they will be urged to change their world. Sounds idealistic...but I believe it's possible. If not, books like this would keep me in bed with the covers over my head forever!
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