The Lovely Bones -- Alice Sebold

I read it because the new Chris Crutcher book is from the perspective of a dead boy.  Since I won't be able to read that one until May, I figured I'd read a book from the perspective of a dead girl instead.  I suspect that's about all they'll have in common.

My name was Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie.  I was fourteen when I was murdered on December 6, 1973.  In newspaper photos of missing girls from the seventies, most looked like me: white girls with mousy brown hair.  This was before kids of all races and genders started appearing on milk cartons or in the daily mail.  It was still back when people believed things like that didn't happen.

People seem to love this book.  If you do, don't hate me.  I thought it was... eh.  It was okay.  But all that it really did was make me want to do was watch Defending Your Life again.

I didn't feel like I connected with any of the characters.  I felt removed from the story--like I was always being held at arm's length.  Some of that might actually be due to strong writing--since Susie isn't really able to communicate with any of the people she's watching, it seems appropriate that the reader would feel the distance. 

The problem was, I never really connected with Susie, either.  This isn't to say that it left me completely dry-eyed or anything. I did tear up.  But that was it.  It didn't leave me thinking about the characters, wanting more, or searching for another book by Alice Sebold.