Review
spin is an instant classic, and it’s not just because the ideas are superbly provoking—but because the events through which they unravel are offered through the most captivating characters I’ve ever encountered on paper. They aren’t particularly clever, nor devious, nor hyperintelligent (although they are intelligent), or even morally intriguing. They don’t have the heroism to rally behind, or the heart wrenching horror of betrayal. They just feel… real. They make sense. Grounded, in a way that makes me feel whole, complete. They feel human.
As the plot floats between past and present, (very elegantly, I might add, to the point where I never felt a lick of whiplash), you start to gather a picture of who these people are. You see their natural inclinations manifest in the events that shape them. A boy rides down a hill on a broken bike, barely yet confidentally in-control. A girl touches your soul, always the right person, never the right time.
Some characters have all the qualities of perfection, but never do they feel like they’re put on a pedestal. Some characters do bad things, but always as an antagonist—never a villain.
And it makes them feel very human. Because when you boil someone down, and you look at their circumstances, their inclinations, their layers of trauma and moments of good—you start to realize that the things people do, both good and bad, are not of them. Though the vessel may be fragile, one’s soul shines through.
And every character in spin—whether their name appears on one page or many—is full of such soul.
What a wonderful book