Glass

Ellen Hopkins

Book - 2007

In a powerful sequel to Crank, Kristina is determined to manage her addiction to crack in order to keep her newborn child, but when she is unable to manage her use of the drug and the pull becomes too strong, her greatest fears are quickly realized.

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YOUNG ADULT FICTION/Hopkins, Ellen
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Location Call Number   Status
Young Adult Area YOUNG ADULT FICTION/Hopkins, Ellen Due Apr 11, 2024
Subjects
Published
New York : Margaret K. McElderberry Books 2007.
Language
English
Main Author
Ellen Hopkins (-)
Item Description
Sequel to: Crank.
Written in free verse poems.
Physical Description
681 p. ; 19 cm
ISBN
9781416940906
9781442471825
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

In this sequel to Crank (2004), teenage Kristina has overcome her crystal meth addiction and given birth to a baby conceived during a rape. Living with her family in Reno, studying for her GED, and caring for her infant, she feels like she's drowning in a deep well of monotony. Rationalizing that she will remain in control, she starts using meth again and realizes that her addiction may be a forever kind of thing. Hopkins' signature style of disjointed free verse is well suited to the voice of a drug-using teen. The lines of text, which zigzag between columns and occasionally form concrete poems, mimic both a high's flight and crash and Kristina's swings between crushing guilt and obliterating cravings. The tragic push-pull also plays out in Kristina's relationships with two men, both users, with whom she experiences (explicitly described) sex, love, and abuse. Heartrending and intimately honest, Hopkins' novel, based on her own daughter's experiences, reveals addiction's brutality but also honors a young person's capacity to face injurious, life-altering choices with courage.--Engberg, Gillian Copyright 2007 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Hopkins's hard-hitting free-verse novel, a sequel, picks up where Crank left off. Kristina now lives in her mother's Reno home with her baby, but constantly dreams of "getting/ high. Strung. Getting/ out of this deep well/ of monotony I'm/ slowly drowning in." When her former connection turns her on to "glass": "Mexican meth, as/ good as it comes. maybe 90 percent pure," Kristina quickly loses control again. She gets kicked out of her house after her baby gets hurt on her watch, starts dealing for the Mexican Mafia ("No problem. I'll play straight/ with them. Cash and carry") and eventually even robs her mother's house with her equally addicted boyfriend. The author expertly relays both plot points and drug facts through verse, painting Kristina's self-narrated self-destruction through clean verses ("My face is hollow-/cheeked, spiced with sores"). She again experiments with form, sometimes writing two parallel poems that can be read together or separately (sometimes these experiments seem a bit cloying, as in "Santa Is Coming," a concrete poem in the shape of a Christmas tree). But in the end, readers will be amazed at how quickly they work their way through this thick book-and by how much they learn about crystal meth and the toll it takes, both on addicts and their families. Ages 14-up. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 9 Up-Kristina Snow was a 17-year-old with high grades and a loving family. In Crank (S & S, 2004), one summer in California with a meth-addicted boyfriend destroys her life. Addicted, she's raped, and goes back home to Reno pregnant. Glass picks up a year later. She lives with her mother and works at a 7-11. Depressed about her post-baby figure, she goes back on speed to lose weight. Her mother kicks her out and gains custody of the baby. She continues to spiral to the last page, which sets readers up for a third novel. Glass is even more terrifying than Crank in its utter hopelessness; meth's power is permanent and Kristina is an addict whether she uses or not. Though her recount of events in the first book is dry and self-indulgent, the pace snowballs as soon as she takes her first toke of rock meth, and one desperate, horrifying measure or decision follows another. Like Crank, this title is written in verse, but certainly not poetry. Hopkins's writing is smooth and incisive, but her fondness for seemingly random forms is distracting and adds little to the power of the narrative. Minor characters are flat, and Kristina's overblown self-pity elicits little empathy. The author tries but fails to present meth itself as a character; her descriptions of "the monster" are precious and overwritten. Kristina's story is terrible, and even when she's high, the narrative voice and mood are sobering. Teens, including reluctant readers, may appreciate the spare style and realism of Kristina's unhappy second chapter.-Johanna Lewis, New York Public Library (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review

Kristina continues to dance with the monster of crystal methamphetamine, her fragmented emotions and cloudy denial displayed keenly by Hopkins's shards of free verse. Despite feeling warmth for her newborn baby and having been off meth for months, 17-year-old Kristina can't bear "the mindless / tedium that is my life" and seeks relief in "Mexican meth . . . 90 percent pure." This ice is far stronger than the "street-lab crank" she started on. Her mother kicks her out, keeping baby Hunter. Kristina moves in with Brad, a cousin of her boyfriend Trey, and the three smoke together. As Kristina spirals ever-downward, the monster claims her car, her minimum-wage job and any residual awareness of her infant son. Her teeth chip and she needs glass regularly just for "maintenance. . . . I'm scared // to shut all the way / down. Scared I might dream. / Scared I might not // wake back up." Hopkins's minimalist verse perfectly demonstrates Kristina's dissociation and muddled despair. Hypnotically sad, with a realistic lack of closure. (Fiction. YA) Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

W alking with the Monster Life was radicalright after I met the monster.Later, life became harder, complicated.Ultimately, a livinghell,like swimmingagainst a riptide, walkingthe wrongdirection in the fastlane of the freeway, wakingfrom sweetest dreams to find yourselfin the middle of a nightmare. Y ou Know My Story Don't you? All about my diveinto the lair of the monsterdrug some people call crank.Crystal. Tina. Ice.How a summer visitto my dad sent me intothe arms of a boy -- ahot-bodied hunk, myvery first love, who ledme down the path to insanity.How I came home no longerKristina Georgia Snow, gifted high school junior, totaldweeb, and perfect daughter, butinstead a stranger who called herself Bree.How, no matter how hard Kristinafought her, Breewas stronger, brighter,better equipped to dealwith a world where everything moved at lightspeed, everyone mired in ego. Where "everyday" becameanother wordfor making love with the monster. I t Wasn't a Long Process I went to my dad's in June, met Adam the very first day. It took some time to pry him from his girlfriend's grasp. But within two weeks, he introduced me to the monster. One time was all it took to want more. It's a roller- coaster ride. Catch the downhill thrill, you want to ride again, enough to endure the long, hard climb back up again. In days, I was hooked on Adam, tobacco, and meth, in no particular order. But all summer vacations must end. I had to come home to Reno. And all my new bad habits came with me. It was a hella speed bump, oh yeah. Until I hurt for it, I believed I could leave the crystal behind. But the crash-and-burn was more than I could take. When the jet landed, I was still buzzed from a good-bye binge. My family crowded round me at the airport, discussing summer plans and celebration dinners, and all I wanted to do was skip off for another snort. Mom kept trying to feed me. My stepfa- ther, Scott, kept trying to ask questions about my visit with Dad. My big sister, Leigh, wanted to talk about her new girlfriend, and my little brother, Jake, kept going on about soccer. It didn't take long to figure out I was in serious trouble. N ot the Kind of Trouble You might think I'm talking about. I was pretty sure I could get away with B.S.ing Mom and Scott. I'd always been such a good girl, they wouldn't make thejump to "bad" too quickly.Especially not if I stayed cool. I wasn't worried about getting busted at school or on the street. I'd only justbegun my walk with the monster.I still had meat on my bones,the teeth still looked good. I didn't stutter yet. My mouth could still keep up with my brain.No, the main thing I worriedabout was how I could score there, at home. I'd never even experimented with pot, let alone meth. Where could I go? Who could I trust with mymoney, my secrets? I couldn'task Leigh. She was the prettiest lesbian you've ever seen. But to my knowledge she had never used anything stronger than a hearty glass of wine. Not Sarah, my best friend since fourth grade, or any of myold crowd, all of whom lived bythe code of the D.A.R.E. pledge.I really didn't need to worry,of course. All I had to do was leave things up to Bree, the goddess of persuasion. B efore I Continue I just want to remind youthat turning into Breewas a conscious decisionon my part. I never reallyliked Kristina that much.Oh, some things about her were pretty cool -- how shewas loyal to her familyand friends. How she lovedeasily. How she was goodat any and all things artistic.But she was such a brain,with no sense of fashionor any idea how to have fun.So when fun presenteditself, I decided someonenew would have to take charge. That someone was Bree.I chose her name (not sure whereI got it), chose when to become her.What I didn't expect was discoveringshe had always been there, inside of me.How could Kristina and Breelive inside of one person?How could two such different halves make up the whole of me?How could Bree have possibly survived,stuck in Kristina's daily existence? T he Funny Thing Was Bree solved the meth dilemma on a family trip to Wild Waters, Scott's annual company picnic. Sarah came The first was along to spend time with a truly gorgeous Kristina. But Bree lifeguard. Turned out had other things Brendan wasn't so pretty in mind. on the inside, but even Bree, who thrived on intuition, was clueless. Hard on the make, Brendan shared booze, cigarettes.But one guy wasn't quite enough. I also ran into Chase Wagner that day. His outside wasn't as I found out attractive, but inside he soon enough that was fine. Of course, both Chase and Brendan I didn't know knew the score -- and both that yet. were interested in me. Brendan only wanted sex; Chase offered love. Either way, I had my path to the monster. M y Mom and Stepfather Later, I discovered that Robyn, my old friend Trent's sister (not to mention an "in" cheerleader), It didn't take tweaked to stay thin long to immerse and "pep up." She myself in the lifestyle. taught me how Didn't take long for school to smoke it. to go to shit; for friend-ships and dedication to family to falter. Didn't take long to become a slave to the monster.Tried to stop me beforeit all went completely wrong. Kristina spent almost a wholeyear GUFN -- groundeduntil further notice.But Bree was really goodat prying open windowsat night, lying with a straightface, denying she hadslipped so far downhill.Nothing slowed me down.Not losing my virginityto Brendan's rape. Notspending a few daysin juvenile hall.The only thing that keptme sane was Chase's love,despite all I put him through.He even swore to love mewhen I told him I was pregnant.Pregnant. And Brendanwas the father. Bree consideredabortion. Exorcism. Kristinaunderstood the baby was notthe demon. His father was.But you know this partof the story. You followedme on my journey throughthe monster's territory.We wound up here.Who am I now, threemonths after I left you,standing on the deck with me, listening to mynew baby, crying inside?I told you then, the monsteris a way of life, one it's difficult to leave behind,no matter how hard you try.I have tried, really I have.Maybe if Chase had stayedwith me, instead of runningoff to California, in searchof his dreams. Then again,I told him to go.Maybe if I had dreams of my own to run off insearch of. I did once. But now I have no plansfor a perfect tomorrow.All I have is today. T for Today I'd really like to tell you I have a nice little place witha white picket fence, flowers in the garden, and Winnie-the-Pooh, Eeyore, and Tigger, too, on baby blue nursery walls. I'd like to inform you that I am on a fast track to a college degree and a career in computer animation -- something I've aimed for, ever since I found out I could draw. I'd love to let you know I left the monster screaming in my dust, shut my ears, scrambled back to my family, back to my baby, my heart. I could tell you those things, but they'd be lies -- nothing new for me, true. But if all I wrote was lies, you wouldn't really know my story. I want you to know. Not a day passes when I don't think about getting high. Strung. Getting out of this deep well of monotony I'm slowly drowning in.Copyright (c) 2007 by Ellen Hopkins Excerpted from Glass by Ellen Hopkins All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.