The Walrus is sweet on Lemon
On matters of importance, the world doesn’t give much of an ear to the opinions of teenage girls. But Lemon, the cynical, wry, and world-weary heroine of the new Cordelia Strube novel that bears her name, deserves to be heard.
Working at the mall, she scoops ice cream for ungrateful, oversexed, and stupid strangers. Volunteering at the hospital, she helps soothe the sores and fears of dying children, telling them they will live long, happy lives, and feeling the guilt behind her lie. Hiding in the shadows, she watches the beatings and blow jobs and drug use of high school. And while she should be safe at home, she instead ends up reassuring the broken and anxious adults around her, helping them through their self-indulgent pain while somehow remaining numb to her own. Lemon’s world is unfair, diseased, and violent, and only she, a teenage girl whom no one listens to, is equipped to deal with it.
Her astute, unsettling observations ("'Sorry' is one of those meaningless words people toss around before they kick you in the head again"; "You have to wonder how many other dreams will turn rancid once you're up close to them") focus on the kinds of things adults have either forgiven or forgotten. What emerges is a stark picture of cruelty and beauty made up of the details grown-ups often ignore.
With Lemon, Strube proves that striking intelligence comes from the mouths of babes; gems of wisdom litter each page, offering insight on everything from historical atrocities to everyday, mind-numbing malaise. While one could say that the novel is light on plot, to do so would be to miss the point: Strube lets the reader crawl inside the head of a girl who sees the world with more clarity than any adult. And the book is better for it.
