Rated of 5
Im seventeen years old. I've read White Oleander by Janet Fitch twice now, and I'm writing a research paper on it for english class. The book was beautiful. My emotions, as I read, were as tumultuous as Astrid's. At times, I felt like I was beside her, watching her every move, even though she couldn't see me, like some sort of spirit. At points, I felt like shaking her, yelling What are you thinking?! Other times I wanted to cry with her and tell her the right thing to do, when to speak, when to walk away. Janet Fitch's descriptions and dialogue and web-spinning put me in an insatiable mood for words; she's actually inspired me to write. I went to the library after reading White Oleander for the second time, and I couldn't find a book I wanted to read. Nothing I pulled off the shelves seemed worth my time comparitively. It was wonderful. On the scale of one to five, I give it a seventy-six!