My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Teeth has acquainted me with the kind of pain that decapitates your tear ducts and overrides your faux-heart, essentially crippling the motherboard, thus turning you into a real human girl and then smashing and squelching the real heart that you managed to acquire. This is probably the first time I wanted to cry and I couldn’t. But fuck the duck did I want to!
This one is a dark and tender novel with small kernels of wonder and delight embedded in it. It is about sad, sad people: loner, lonelier and loneliest. But mostly about loner and loneliest, on a secret island and in a mysterious sea and inside hidden caves, where magic fish dwell. Sometimes dead, sometimes very much alive. It’s a heart-rending story that never ventures into depressing. Rudy has recently moved to this island with his family. There he meets a fishboy who climbs up rocks to flirt with a human boy. There he meets a girl who learns to carry a gun before ever embarking beyond her porch.
Moskowitz has again given us an exemplary illustration of the web of people and their stories that she’s caught up in. Her characters are so unique, they are so flawed and complicated and desperate and lonely and optimistic and dead, it breaks my heart to finish the book. They are fucking real. The words she types(or pens) out and just exactly the way she strings them are more intriguing than the world of the Jellyfish smugglers. She never fails to steal my breath with her simplistic and elegant sentences. I applaud the technique she employs that even when including crude words, her writing is the definition of finesse. Beyond finesse.
“I have to save Teeth a million times and I have to hug Dylan, I have to love Dylan even though he’s fucked and always has been and I don’t know him, and I’m never going to know him, and I’m never going to know me because everyone in the world who even sees me is fucking dying, and I will never know me until I’m done knowing people who know me, and I will never ever be free.”
And that is just one half of a sentence.
Rudy is one of the most original characters I’ve met. His bitterness about having to move here for his brother’s sake is apparent, but so is his confusion about not yearning for his past self. He has these little quirks that all Moskowtiz characters have- the ones that are such insignificant everyday details but yet segregate their personalities form the rest of us. His relationship with his brother is rather…umm… whatever. He loves his brother, that much is clear. He’d die for him but then enters Teeth, the mysterious fishboy and complications arise and he has to choose between his brother’s life and Teeth’s smile…
Teeth is one big fucker. Fucking with my emotional state. Fucking with my dreams. Fucking with my fucking thoughts. And fucking with mermaids. Will I ever be able to point at the ridiculousness of Ariel and her expended kingdom and laugh till I start shitting Easter Eggs? No, ma’am, sir. Fucking-N-fucking-O-fucking-P-fucking-E! Heck, even my Ipod is so distraught that when I shuffled it yesterday, it played Where Are You Now by Mumford and Sons and Pyro, Use Somebody and Crawl by Kings of Leon- all of them songs I could never make neither head not tail of but somehow they just reminded me of Teeth. After that, I had to force up my lazy-ass hand to play something else before I morphed into a five-foot-four baby elephant, keening like a banshee set up residence in my soul.Teeth is so sweet and hypocritical and bratty and annoying and…And just Teeth, alright? I wanna open fire at Disneyland so every bloody human will leave and then I want to scoop Teeth up, snatch Rudy away from the world and spend the whole of eternity with them in this paradise.
And Teeth is some original shit. Some strange shit. Some real, poignant shit. You see, despite the fact that she could get us to read a set of encyclopedias on her characters, Hannah Moskowtiz just insists on adding a story as well. So stuff happens and more stuff happens and then shit goes to Beibershit-land, and it’s all for everyone but it’s stupid, stupid, stupid. It’s the most realistic ending but fuck it, I want some Brimstone miracle because I suppose even the pain of the ripped auricles and ventricles counts as well, right Issa? The worst things is that she writes fucking Standalone novels. And I know I’m grasping at not even straws but empty air, but doesn’t that ending sound ambiguous? Maybe this could turn into a duology, or maybe even a trilogy, or a quartet, perhaps?
So fuck actual fragile hearts, because who are they helping?
Fuck you, actual fragile heart.
I am still in the process of getting each of my friends that can read ‘A’ from ‘H'(just kidding guys) to dive into this ocean of sorrow with me and never surface. And won’t you suffer along with me? Pretty please?
Besides, look at some of this shit that goes down:
Obtained from Deviantart. By hoooook.