The Coldest Winter I Ever Spent by Ann Jacobus
Published March 2023 via Lerner
★★★★
4.5 stars. I adored Jacobus's first novel, Romancing the Dark in the City of Light, so I leapt at the chance to read The Coldest Winter I Ever Spent. It didn't disappoint.
Set in 2015, The Coldest Winter follows Del, who lives with her aunt Fran in San Francisco. With a complicated family history and her own struggles with depression, addiction, and anxiety, Del's not sure that her loved ones fully trust her with her life—and she's not sure they should, either. Still, Del's holding it together—until Fran is diagnosed with cancer, and Del's carefully crafted present and future start to crumble.
Until about the midpoint of the book, I wasn't sure about Del. One of the things I loved so much about Romancing the Dark was how distinct it felt from so much of the YA I've read—how much it felt like the protagonist had aged beyond her time. Del, too, has been through the wringer, but it's not until later in the book that that experience truly starts to shape her into who she can become.
When things get hard for Fran, though: that's when the book starts to sing. I spent 2022 in what we'll call a family cancer plotline of my own, and I'm not sure I would have been able to finish the book—wait, keep reading, that's a compliment—if Fran's cancer had been more similar to my family's experience. Del's grief, and perhaps more to the point her pre-grief, are palpable, and by the end of the book I could read only a few pages at a time before pausing and turning to something else for a few minutes. Only three books in the history of ever have made me cry, and I'm not looking to add to that list. If I'd stopped to think about it, I probably would have concluded that I wasn't in a place to read this right now—but it's just as well that I don't have a lot of bookish self-control. For all that this is set in 2015 (and there are reasons for that, but I won't spoil them), this is one of the most up-to-date looks at depression, grief, and (again, no spoilers) things surrounding those topics that I've seen in fiction in quite some time.
Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a free review copy through NetGalley.
When things get hard for Fran, though: that's when the book starts to sing. I spent 2022 in what we'll call a family cancer plotline of my own, and I'm not sure I would have been able to finish the book—wait, keep reading, that's a compliment—if Fran's cancer had been more similar to my family's experience. Del's grief, and perhaps more to the point her pre-grief, are palpable, and by the end of the book I could read only a few pages at a time before pausing and turning to something else for a few minutes. Only three books in the history of ever have made me cry, and I'm not looking to add to that list. If I'd stopped to think about it, I probably would have concluded that I wasn't in a place to read this right now—but it's just as well that I don't have a lot of bookish self-control. For all that this is set in 2015 (and there are reasons for that, but I won't spoil them), this is one of the most up-to-date looks at depression, grief, and (again, no spoilers) things surrounding those topics that I've seen in fiction in quite some time.
Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a free review copy through NetGalley.
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