When her husband announces—out of the blue—that he's accepted a new job outside the city, it throws Lainie Smith Morris' life into a tailspin.  A consummate New Yorker, she can't imagine leaving Manhattan for some boring, land-locked suburban town.  The energy of the city thrums through her veins, feeding her soul like her apartment's view of the Hudson River inspires the seascapes that have brought her notoriety as an up-and-coming artist.  Lainie knows how important it is for her husband, an orthopedic surgeon who grew up on an upstate dairy farm, to prove that he's "made it," but she can't help resenting a move that will tear her away from the life she loves.

To keep the peace, Lainie moves to Elliot, New Jersey, with her husband, four children, and the kids' nanny.  It doesn't take long for her to feel completely intimidated by the snooty, image-obsessed suburbanites who now surround her.  Even the local art community seems to be snubbing her, with her pedestrian little collages.  Although she soaks herself in the town pool every chance she gets, Lainie feels like a fish out of water—no matter how hard she flaps her fins, she's just not making any headway.  As Charles becomes increasingly hostile over his wife's apparent refusal to fit in, Lainie feels hurt, angry, and lost.

Enter Jess Howard.  A beautiful, wealthy socialite, Jess is not thrilled to find that Lainie Smith Morris—of all people—has moved to Elliot.  Having spent summers in Cape May together as teenagers, Jess has always been envious of Lainie's passive-aggressive charm and talent.  Although she would love to watch Lainie continue to flounder in Elliot society, she takes pity on her old rival.  Taking Lainie and her children on as charity projects gives Jess a sense of satisfaction—as does seducing Lainie's husband.

As Jess becomes more and more entrenched in the Morris Family's drama, Lainie finds herself slowly suffocating.  Between the daily pressure of being married to an ambitious doctor, raising four demanding children, and trying to further her art career while doing her best not to embarrass herself every time she steps outside her front door, Lainie feels strangled.  Can she ever find balance and a sense of peace for herself?  Or will she slowly dry up and wither away, like a selkie who sheds its true identity to live, always trapped and smothered, on the land?

The premise behind Between the Tides, a debut novel by Susannah Marren, sounds so innocuous that it's difficult to describe why I found almost everything about the story so repugnant.  Let's start with the characters.  With the exception of some of the kids, every single one of Marren's stereotypical cast members is selfish, immature, unsympathetic and decidedly unlikable.  The adults are indulgent and/or neglectful parents; cruel and/or disloyal spouses; as well as self-absorbed and/or conniving people.  Lainie is especially ridiculous—she leaves the care of her children to the nanny or to 12-year-old Matilde, then whines (constantly) about how little time motherhood gives her to pursue her real passion: art.  While any wife/mother can relate to feeling exhausted and used-up by her family at times, Between the Tides takes the theme to an extreme level, making the whole novel feel like an angry feminist rant against marriage/motherhood ("Husbands are husbands, placate them as best you can.  Children are the glue; cherish them and comfort yourself for their benefit." [175]).  The cluttered prose adds to the problem.  Not only does Marren use very stilted dialogue, bogged down by the overuse of conversation tags ("Please pass the salt, Carl."; "I'd be happy to, Stephanie."  "Thank you, Carl."  "Oh, Stephanie, you're so welcome."), but the writing never feels very dynamic.  Overall, the story is dark, depressing, and dull.  I finished the novel because I was promised a doozy of a surprise ending.  It didn't surprise me, but what happened and how flippantly the characters reacted did make me say, "What in the world?"  For me, the odd finale just reinforced my dislike of Between the Tides.

I know I'm being a serious Negative Nelly here (Between the Tides actually gets pretty good reviews on Amazon and Goodreads; maybe it's just me who hated it ...), so I'll tell you what I did like about the book: the whole selkie thing gave it a unique spin that felt almost like magical realism.  It wasn't developed as much as it could have been, but it was an interesting element in an otherwise unpleasant novel.

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't think of anything.  You?)

Grade:

Standing out is nothing new for high school freshman NaTasha Jennings. One of the few African-Americans in her suburban New Jersey town, she's used to looking different, being different from the kids around her. She's not exactly happy with her curvy hips, coarse hair, and dark chocolate-colored skin or the fact that the guys at her school never seem to see her, let alone ask her out, but she can deal. Just because she's surrounded by people who look nothing like her doesn't mean her cushy prepster lifestyle isn't worth it.


NaTasha's sassy Harlem-reared grandmother does not agree. Tilly, who turns up her nose at any town with "too many white folks and not enough jerk chicken" (4), takes it upon herself to drag her granddaughter back to her roots. NaTasha's spent plenty of vacay time in Harlem, always enjoying having Tilly to herself, but never a whole summer. And she's never set foot inside the crisis center where Tilly has volunteered for years. All that's about to change. While NaTasha's friends roam the mall and hit all the good parties, she'll be stuck in her grandma's colorful neighborhood hanging out with juvenile delinquents If this is what it takes to "find herself," NaTasha wants no part of it. Except, of course, that nobody argues with Tilly. And, okay, if NaTasha's honest with herself, she can admit that her grandmother might be right - maybe she could use a lesson in Racial Identity 101.

It doesn't take NaTasha long to realize the lesson's not going to be an easy one. Tilly's gritty community makes her jumpy, the girls at Amber's Place dub her a "sell-out" for acting too white, and already, her friends back home are changing. Even though she's finally getting some male attention from not one, but two fine-looking boys, NaTasha still wants to high-tail it back to her nice, safe, suburban routine. As much as she longs to go home, she refuses to quit, knowing giving up will only confirm her sell-out status. But staying in Harlem - battling her fears and facing truths about herself she's never dared to acknowledge before - will be the hardest thing she's ever done.

While Sell-Out, a debut novel by Ebony Joy Wilkins, specifically addresses racial identity, it's the kind of book that will speak to anyone who's ever felt out of place. The story makes powerful statements about race, identity, culture, accepting differences, and staying true to oneself. It delves into issues I, as a white surburbanite, have never heard of (skin bleaching cream?), let alone experienced. It's precisely because these things have no place in my day-to-day existence that I found this book both compelling and important. These kinds of empathy-through-understanding lessons are always valuable.

That being said, I felt that Wilkins' writing needed some serious polishing. Much of Sell-Out's plot seemed contrived, some of it felt forced, and, not all of it made sense to me (I'm still trying to figure out why Rex showed up in the end.). Although there's plenty of conflict in the book, I still thought NaTasha resolved her problems a little too easily and way too neatly. I wanted her to struggle more, fight harder, and battle longer before winning her victory. Perhaps because of these things, I never really felt as if I knew NaTasha. Or any of her cohorts. All of them - except Tilly, who's so colorful she's like five-dimensional - needed fleshing out.

All in all, I still think Sell-Out tells an important story. I just wish it was smoother, tighter, and stronger. Ebony Joy Wilkins shows so much potential that you better believe I'll be keeping my eye on her. Here's hoping she keeps writing, keeps polishing, and keeps publishing this type of book. Oh, and if feisty Tilly makes another appearance, you won't hear me complaining.

(Readalikes: Reminded me of other books about racial identity, like Shine, Coconut Moon by Neesha Meminger; When the Black Girl Sings by Bil Wright; several Jacqueline Woodson titles and others)

Grade: C

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for language (no F-bombs), some sexual content, and mature themes

To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC* of Sell-Out from the generous folks at Scholastic. Thank you!

*Quotes taken from an ARC, and are therefore subject to change in the final version of the book