All Things New deals with a character who has suffered from panic attacks ever since her parents' divorce.
Story:
All Things New is an important book, as it deals with panic and mental disorders in teenagers. There were some aspects of the book that I found extremely good, and others I could have done without.
The 'angel' aspect did not work for me. Nor did the fact that the psychiatrists in this book were all smirking, pill-pushing individuals. I also think I would have liked it more if the group therapy was actually group therapy, not a group of teens just sharing among themselves, without adult supervision.
Also, it seems more than a little flimsy to me that 'love' can help Jessa get better - this could be a problem for people who do suffer from panic attacks.
I did appreciate the fact that there are parents present in All Things New. It's important sometimes to see responsible family situations.
Characters:
Jessa had some techniques to deal with her panic attacks, but not all of them helped. After a car accident, she moved to her dad's place in Colorado, to get away from everything that had made things difficult to her.
Hannah is Jessa's new best friend. A music prodigy who is stressed out, and sad about taking second-seat to her brother's illness.
Marshall is Hannah's brother. He has a hole in his heart, and is strangely happy about that.
Writing style :
First person present tense from Hannah's perspective, but with third person present tense when the spotlight is on other characters. The dialogues were rapid, and made getting to know the characters easier.
Feels :
I was a bit frustrated, to be honest. All Things New could have been a great story about teens who struggle with mental illnesses, but it felt like it didn't take mental illness seriously.
On a clear day, you can see past downtown and almost all the way to the beach from here. But tonight the sky is muddy with haze. The skyline looks as if someone has wiped parts of it away, the buildings fading into a brown blur, the furthest ones totally out of sight. It's eerie.
Every part of me aches. My brain feels to big for my skull. I shuffle toward the bathroom. There is a towel hanging over the mirror, tucked in tight at the sides. Its presence there, the fact that someone felt the need to hang it, sucks the air from my chest.