NB: I was provided with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Thank you to Simon and Schuster!
Here is a durian fruit:
It is stinky. It is spiky. It is unloved by the inhabitants of Earth and other planets all over our great universe.
It is my firm belief that everyone is born a durian fruit. Now, you might be asking, “Just where on Earth is this post going?” And you truly have a right to do so. But stick with me for a second.
There are certain things you need to do to graduate from the status of durian fruit to human – or whatever you are destined to be, whether it be fig tree or bread stick. One of those things is donate all of your money to the extremely worthy cause of my wallet. Failing that, you should read this book.
Delightfully funny, and filled to the brim with surprisingly philosophical and profound moments, Thanks for the Trouble is a bomber of a book that deserves your complete and undivided attention.
Enter Parker. Parker does not speak, but steals. Parker does not talk, but writes.
Enter Zelda. Zelda is young, but old. Zelda is beautiful, and strange in a way that would be described as “mysterious” as opposed to “creepy”.
One fuddled theft and two coffees later, the two are now acquaintances, and set out on an adventure to spend a huge sum of cash, and in the process, find their own lives again.
Reading this book is an investment. It’s an investment, because from the moment you read the first paragraph, the book pulls you in without the need for guns or action, blood or murder. It invariably sucks you into the story from the second you pick it up to the second you are forced to put it down, with little words wasted and even less unnecessary scenes. In such a thin book, every paragraph is precious, and so much can happen in the space of two pages, or three. Thanks for the Trouble is a quick read that will open up a whole new world for a criminally short time, shutting it down before you even get a chance to get your feet wet.
The characters contribute to about 90% of this book’s loveability. Parker was flawlessly flawed and Zelda… well, she was Zelda, and you will never truly understand how much she sprung out of the writing and into your imagination until you read this book.
His mother, who was featured much less, was developed just as much as the two main characters. The same goes for Alana, and the other background characters. Wallach simply has the most beautiful method of writing people into real life – because they aren’t simply book characters anymore. They become people.
The beginning was beautiful. The ending was heart shattering. The middle was one hell of a journey. Read it, because after all, nobody wants to be a durian.
“I’ve got some questions for you. Was this story written about me?”
“Yes or no?”
I shrugged again, finally earning a little scowl, which somehow made the girl even more pretty. It brought a bloom to her pale cheeks and made sharp shelves of her cheekbones.
“It’s very rude not to answer simple questions,” she said.
I gestured for my journal, but she still wouldn’t give it to me. So I took out my pen and wrote I can’t on my palm.
Then, in tiny letters below it, I finished the thought: Now don’t you feel like a jerk?
Parker Santé hasn’t spoken a word in five years. While his classmates plan for bright futures, he skips school to hang out in hotels, killing time by watching the guests. But when he meets a silver-haired girl named Zelda Toth, a girl who claims to be quite a bit older than she looks, he’ll discover there just might be a few things left worth living for.