The Sharp Edge of Silence

Wow. I am completely speechless. This was a phenomenal and gut-wrenching read, and so nuanced in its thematic writing style. I have to applaud Rosenblum for writing such a raw story and being willing enough to share parts of herself with us readers. It’s the hardest thing in the world to allow other people to see the depths of your trauma and soul like Rosenblum bared to us. It’s a book I won’t be forgetting that’s for sure.

It was the cover with “boys will be boys” but with parts of the phrase crossed through that immediately grabbed my attention. Then upon reading the synopsis which included the phrase “tackles the contagious nature of toxic masculinity at an elite boarding school” while exploring rape culture, I *had* to read this book. One of my favourite books of all time is Mandy McGinnis’ “The Female of the Species”, and the description of “The Sharp Edge of Silence” felt very reminiscent of it in terms of its themes. So, that was another reason I was immediately drawn to the book.

First and foremost, the writing style was so poignant. The way Q, one of our three narrating characters, was characterised and how her inner thoughts were portrayed so viscerally was impeccable. She was without a doubt, the shining star of this book. She was my anchor. She made me heart ache and soar. She was so raw and wonderful. Her anger was a living breathing thing that pulsed throughout the whole book— she wouldn’t let me forget how angry she was and I didn’t want her to. Her anger was my anger. Her helplessness was my helplessness. She was an extension of myself and so many other girls who have been in similar circumstances. Reading the last few lines, my smile was so big as I got the privilege to watch her slowly begin her journey of healing and happiness. I adored her so much. One of my favourite book characters in a long time. Unforgettable.

Charlotte and Max are our other two narrators. For the first half of the book, I will say I found the three alternating narrators... odd. It meant there were lulls in the narrative at times and I wasn’t quite sure where things were going. But I loved watching how all three of their perspectives ultimately overlapped and converged. It was incredibly satisfying to read and in the end, Max’s and Charlotte’s points of view had the desired impact Rosenblum wanted. Q’s story was the more explicitly brutal result of rape culture and toxic masculinity, while Max and Charlotte’s were far more subtle and eye-opening, exemplifying how being silent is complicit. Turning the other way is complicit. Shrugging it off is complicit.

Rosenblum just nailed this.

And I can’t express how happy I am that this story ended on a hopeful note. I actually started cheering and grinning so big by the final few chapters. I was sad but I finished this book a bit lighter and more hopeful than I expected.

Everyone should read this book. It’s truly a must-read. Rosenblum has written a phenomenal book here. Go read it! I literally recommend this to everyone, to all ages and genders because this is a topic everyone needs educating about.

A really enjoyable read that grabbed me in right away and didn't let me go. The characters were so well developed and I loved them, I have taken them to my heart. This book is so good with so much going on and so many themes running throughout the story, it wouldn't be out of place on an academic syllabus

Heartbreakingly well written, this book will draw you in and chew you out

The 3 main characters are luring you into their heads and everything about this story works!

Highly recommend

Source of book: NetGalley (thank you)
Relevant disclaimers: None
Please note: This review may not be reproduced or quoted, in whole or in part, without explicit consent from the author.

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So err, content guidance. All the content guidance for (this list is non-exhaustive) sexual abuse, reaction to and recovery from sexual abuse, PTSD, rape culture, etc. Also spoilers.

<blockquote> An asymmetric moon rises from the hills behind Lake Edith. It tosses pieces of itself onto the water, and the lake wears them like sequins. You don’t need to make yourself beautiful for this place, Edith, I say in my head. You’re too good for them.</blockquote>

This book is both incredibly good and incredibly difficult to read. As a piece of writing—as a nuanced, sophisticated, and moving exploration of its subject, I very much recommend it. But I also encourage people to take care of themselves above and beyond, because, holy shit, does this hit hard. I mean, I chose very deliberately to read this, the content guidance is very clear, and I was super prepared for the subject matter. And I still feel a bit hollowed out by it, although I should emphasise that the book never felt graphic or gratuitous to me. The assault itself is rendered in a kind of broken poetry—the narrative shattering around the indescribability of an experience like that—in a way that is both abstract and yet captures the emotion of the moment. And mostly the story covers the aftermath of what has happened. It just happens to do so very vividly, which is its own particular kind of painful.

Anyway, the three POV characters in The Sharp Edge of Silence are students at ye traditional privilege-saturated dark academia style boarding school. Charlotte Foresley is middle class, a talented ballerina and choreographer, and currently dating Sebastian McNeilly, one of the school’s golden boys. Maxwell Hannigan-Loffler is an extremely academically gifted scholarship student. And, finally, there’s Quinn (Q) Walsh, a sixth-generation legacy student whose family’s history is entwined with that of school itself. As the book opens, Q is stalking the grounds of Lycroft Phelps, full of pain and anger, trying to steal a gun from school security so she can shoot Colin Pearce—the boy who sexually assaulted her at a dance last term. Charlotte, meanwhile, is aspiring win a chorography competition and fretting about not being good enough to keep the attention of a boy like Seb McNeilly. And Max, a short, socially devalued nerd, is being invited to cox for the school’s prestigious rowing team, an invitation that will change the trajectory of his future at Lycroft Phelps.

To get my own nerdy notes out of the way first, something I really appreciated about this setup is the way the three stories seem disconnected at first but gradually come together in the second half of the book, offering us three different perspectives on Q, what happened to her, and the events that follow. More satisfyingly still, the voices of the three protagonists are exceptionally well-realised: sufficiently distinct that if you opened the book at any point, you would recognise whose POV you were in. I love that shit. But I also appreciated how flawed, and in quite specific ways, each of the characters was allowed to be. Q is so angry and self-destructive that, for all its completely understandable, it’s almost unbearable. Charlotte is insecure in ways that are equally understandable, but also make her self-absorbed and, on one occasion, spiteful. Max, meanwhile, has that nerdy smart-but-stupid thing going on. He’s well-meaning, but he has a bunch of slightly Reddity theories regarding the kind of men women are attracted to (he calls it the Quantitative Hotness Correlativity Theory – oh my dude, no) and it’s, once again, understandable and inevitable why he would have his head so thoroughly turned by a brush with popularity and belonging.

The main thing I have to say about The Sharp Edge of Silence, though, is that it struck me (and, as ever, we’re talking about deeply personal and subjective issues here, I am talking only about my own reactions) is an incredibly clever take on its subject matter. And I realise ‘clever’ sounds a bit damning when you’re talking about something as emotive and complicated as sexual abuse, but I really admired every choice this book too around its subject matter, and the nuance it allowed to flourish.

For example, Q is a self-aware and politically alert student—she mentions #MeToo, for example—as well as being extremely (and I do mean extremely) privileged. Her incredibly wealthy grandfather actually sits on the board of governors for the school. Although her mother is dead, her family are loving and supportive, wealth in their own right, and influential enough to be able to seek advice from a top lawyer when she tells them what happened. There’s a tendency, I’ve found, with stories that deal with, y’know, *this*, especially those set at educational instalments to emphasise social and class privilege as well as … err …rape culture privilege? I’m thinking something like The Riot Club (aka Posh) or Anatomy of a Scandal, the situation nearly always involves a man of high social standing and woman without those advantages. But I think, by making different choices about Q’s access to sources of conventional power and protection, what The Sharp Edge of Silence is able to explore in quite a devastating way is the stark reality that … urgh I’m sorry to write this so horribly but … if a man decides to r*pe you, chances are he can r*pe you. And all the power, wealth, privilege and uplifting social media movements in the world are unlikely to stop him. That is not, by the way, to diminish the impact of those things, especially when it comes broader cultural changes: but when it comes to one girl and one boy at a party, the calculus can be brutally simple. In case it’s not clear, I really felt for Q, throughout. Her journey from traumatised to a path of recovery was profoundly credible to me, and all the more so for the times when she’s so lost in the immediacy of what happened to her that access to conventional sources source of help (therapy, friends, family, love) simply couldn’t be enough.

Charlotte and Max’s stories are kind of a necessary emotional break from what’s going on with Q, but they also offer context to her journey in really intriguing ways. With Charlotte we get to see Sebastian (one of the hyper-privileged rowing team, and close fried of Colin Pearce, who assaulted Q) in a gentler context. And with Max we get to seeing the rowing team at their best, as a group of young men who are equally as capable of teamwork, commitment, loyalty and kindness as they are of … err. Degrading, objectifying and assaulting women. There’s a kind of tragedy to it, almost. I don’t say that in defence of anything that they do, or to detract from Q’s story, but the rowing team could have been portrayed as monsters. Instead, they’re portrayed as human and, somehow, that’s even worse. Because they do what they do *knowingly*. Because they could be better. And while the book is very clear that r*ping someone, locker room talk, and having a mildly problematic theory about who hot girls date are not remotely equivalent, and yet they are part of the same culture (part of rape culture in fact). This doesn’t make them equally dangerous, nor does it imply that one inevitably leaves to the others, but it does remind us that the crime comes from the culture and stopping one will not change the other.

All of which said, it’s kind of also important that not everything is terrible in this book. While it can’t (shouldn’t) really offer Q unilateral healing, it can (and does) offer her hope: a steady path to recovery, supported by professionals and loved ones. And while it is understanding of her anger, it ultimately recognises the futility of revenge-fuelled fantasies. This isn’t to say there is no resolution on the issue of Colin Pearce and the rowing team, because there is and it's as satisfying a one that can be offered without the book losing its grounding in realism. But the closest thing that Q can get to a happy ending for this particular experience is reaching a point where what happens to Colin Pearce is as no longer part of her story. And the fact that the book is able to get her there, without taking any shortcuts, diminishing the complexity of its themes, or surrendering to cliched expectations regarding how we represent either abusers or abuse survivors, is its own triumph. For both Q and, I think, the author.

This was one of the most emotional, raw books I've read in ages which some people may find difficult to read as it tackles rape culture and misogyny head on.
Once I started reading this book I couldn't put it down and was so invested in Q that I sat up into the early hours to find out what happened and if she was ok. Everything about how she felt and what she wanted to do felt believable and an honest reaction of someone going through what she was. The story moves with a good pace and I feel like everyone should read it especially in schools .. I imagine it could start some important conversations amongst students.

I loved this book. Easy to read and engaging from the start, it explores toxic masculinity at an elite American prep school through three different narrative perspectives. Each POV offers a different insight into the subject in an authentic way and I enjoyed skipping between them - the chapters were relatively short and this kept the pace . I felt the author handled the exploration of recovery after trauma incredibly well and Quinn's pain was heartwrenching to witness. I also loved Charlotte's naivety and Max's desire to be popular. Every character and storyline felt real whilst the subject of the book was shocking but not written in a sensationalist or gratuitous way. With a powerful hook and a crucially important message - laying bare the climate that can lead to sexual violence and the utter disrespect of women - it is one of the best contemporary YA books I have read in recent years.

I went into reading this with very little prior knowledge. The cover jumped out to me immediately (plus, I'm a sucker for a bright yellow colour) and didn't expect all that much. I definitely did not expect it to be one of the most thought-provoking books I'd read this year. This was a gut-wrenching and compelling read, full of themes I'd read in other books before, but put together in a way that kept me glued to the pages. I could honestly have read another hundred pages and am still holding out hope for some of the characters. This is a book with a plot that could easily have been over-the-top or handled indelicately. The characters could have been one-dimensional and shallow and the sort of predictable I often expect when I read anything set in a prestigious boarding school. The book also follows the first-person point of views of three different characters: Charlotte, Q, and Max. Again, this could have gone very wrong, with the voices blending or one of the voices being less interesting than the others. But this wasn't the case at all and instead the voices felt pretty distinct and I was interested in hearing the story progress and come together for each of the three "main" characters.

Some background: This book is set at a prestigious boarding school in the US. Lycroft Phelps is the kind of institution that guarantees a spot at a top Ivy League university. There are sporty extra-curriculars and fancy classes to attend. There's an amphitheatre with statues of the Greek muses, there's a spectacular boat house on a picturesque lake and a dining hall with food to envy. But the school is also full of rape culture and misogyny, an attitude of "boys will be boys" and sweeping scandals under the rug. Q is a victim of this culture, after being raped by a star athlete after a dance. The plots a revenge plot that will change her life, and the lives of many others at the school.

This book was such an unexpected delight. I felt immediately drawn in by the plot and the atmosphere and the writing style was fantastic.

An incredible read.

Shocking, razor sharp and horrifying, this is a great novel and a great commentary on the times we live in.

A must read

**Please read all trigger warnings laid out in the beginning of the book. This book focuses on sexual assault and its aftermath.**

★★★★★ 4.5/5

As a prestigious, private high school, Lycroft Phelps is full of people who are marked for success, but underneath the high, fancy exterior, lurks a toxic, degrading, and competitive secret society. 

For Quinn, she's haunted by what happened in May. Unable to move on, and now a shell of her former self, she seeks revenge for what happened. What she's not expecting is everything else she discovers along the path of revenge, discovering that the school and some of the boys there are much worse than she anticipated. 

Charlotte is happy in her little bubble. As a straight A student and goody-two shoes, dating Seb from the Varsity rowing team, life couldn't be better. For her, she's at her happiest, but what she slowly comes to realise is she's also at her most naive. She's the perfect, annoying teenager with a boyfriend, so enraptured by him she's willing to overlook and excuse anything that doesn't fit into her happiness. 

Max knows what the benefits of attending Lycroft Phelps has for him as a STEM focused student, but he also knows how unnoticed he goes. When an opportunity to change how he's seen around school arises, Max is unsure at first, until he finds himself getting the attention he wants from the girl he's crushing on. 

Told from multiple (three) POV's, The Sharp Edge of Silence offers an insight into the goings on of the school and its students from different perspectives. It doesn't shy away from the difficult topic of sexual assault, showing the harrowing ordeal and the aftermath Quinn faces. It's not some 'this happened and that's how it was dealt with' kind of story, just like it's not a light read. There are some dark moments, not just for Quinn, but Max and Charlotte too. It really does delve deep into Quinn's mind as a survivor, and it highlights how toxic masculinity is still ever present, and how teenage boys are effected by it in a corrupt and elite setting. 

Despite the heavy themes, and at times it's a tough read, I absolutely loved this. It's so much more than just another sexual assault book. It's a book about healing, about wanting revenge in ways people struggle to understand, putting trust in others, and learning to accept the help friends can give. It's also about discovering who you really are as a person, the lengths you'll go to, and the changes you make to yourself to fit in. It's a really well written, deep, and dark dive into a world that for some actually exists, even if in small parts. And despite being a NA/YA book, the topics are handled better than some of the adult books I've read surrounding them. 

Did I like the book? Yes. 

Did I love it? Yes. Whilst this is Quinn's story, Charlotte and Max are integral to it. They show more of the students and their lives, and how what happened to Quinn is just the beginning of what's really going on at the school.

Would I recommend it? Definitely, but please be aware of the trigger warnings. They're not there to spoil the book, but to help you protect yourself from reading something that you may find upsetting.

Cameron Kelly Rosenblum's 'The Sharp Edge of Silence' is brutal, disturbing and necessary, shining a light on misogyny and sexual assault rife in the institutions of the powerful. Lycroft Phelps is a prestigious private school and easy route into the Ivy League for the generations of wealthy students from elite families who attend. We view the new school year from the point of view of three students: beautiful Charlotte, a dancer with an enviably rich and handsome boyfriend, Max, a scholarship student who is being seduced by the advantages which could be his in the life of an athlete, and Quinn who is reeling from an experience last summer she would rather hide, despite it being a haunting trauma. We follow the events of the new school year complete with secret societies, athletic rivalries and the debauched behaviour of the rich and powerful.

I found this book a tough but important read. Quinn's story is something alarmingly real for any woman who has experienced any sort of unwanted advances from a man. Rosenblum does not hold back on the grotesque portrayal of the corruption of the elite who believe they are entitled to anything they lay claim to, including women's bodies. What is even more disturbing is the young age of the students involved in this story, the rotten core present even in the younger generations. The reveals get darker and more disturbing as the narrative progresses, at some stages the reader being teased with the 'good' characteristics of Quinn's rapist and the potential for lovely Max to be drawn into this disgusting, exploitative world. The moral lines are blurred and the reader longs for the world to be righted with villains punished and the heroes finding justice. Rosenblum highlights the messiness of reality and does not hold back in her portrayal of toxic masculinity and the corruption of the rich and powerful.

Overall, this is a fantastic read. Hard, yes, but powerful. One of my best reads of 2022. 5 stars,

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher who provided an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.