conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a description for a book titled The Girl in Between about UpAn, Authorities, Jeanette with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Gr 6 UpAn unnamed homeless girl who tends to blur reality and imagination follows her unstable mother throughout a bustling city that's seemingly crawling with "Authorities" and social workers. The girl spends most of her time exploring the depths of an abandoned factory she sees as her castle. Her main priority is to stay invisible to the outside world. She ruminates on the days before the safety of the castle, when she watched her Ma slowly descend into a world of alcoholism and drug addiction. the author depicts a young girl at the mercy of adults. The girl's thoughts and actions are reminiscent of the subject's of Jeanette Walls's The Glass Castle as she is forced to assume the responsibilities of a parent. the author's writing shines with true originality. The plot is comprised mostly of the protagonist conquering her various fears, many of which spawn from her imagination and memories. There is very little dialogue driving the story, so the narrative is propelled by the girl's introspection and somewhat confusing dips back into her past. There are several heartrending reveals that keep the novel from becoming stagnant, but the tinges of magical realism may not be appreciated by all readers. VERDICT For libraries looking to add literary and gritty YA to collections lacking in books about teen poverty or homelessness.Michael Marie Jacobs, Darlington School, GA
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first five paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Girl in Between
  I'm invisible. Ma says I'm supposed to be so the Authorities don't get me. She goes out into the streets almost every day but I'm not allowed. I've got to stay inside the mill so they don't see me. When she's going she says, "Stay away from the roof, it's a death trap. And don't go near them windows neither. And don't even think of leaving this building or I'll lose ya and I'll never find ya again."
  Me and Ma are begging outside the mill. I'm by the door in the shadow where no one can see me. This is as far as I'm allowed to go. Ma's out on the bottom step.
  It's a sunny day, which means good and bad news for begging. Good news 'cause we're not getting wet and people are happy. Bad news 'cause people always give more when it's raining. They feel sorry for us 'cause they think we sleep out on the streets. They don't know that we don't do that anymore. They don't realize that the mill is our Castle and we're safe in here.
  Ma flicks back her hair and ties it into a ponytail that reaches halfway down her back. She pulls out the front of the top she's wearing and blows on her chest to try to cool down. The pointy parts of her shoulders are all shiny from sweat and she wipes them with her hands.
  Ma's real pointy. She has a pointy nose and pointy ears. Her elbows and knees are all knobbly too. She used to be much pointier though, back when we lived on the streets.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: five more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I'm just going up the stairs when I hear Ma at the front door. I jump back down the steps and sprint through the basement. I try to open the lock but I'm not doing it right 'cause I'm hurrying too much.
  When I finally do get it open, I pull too hard and the door comes flying back and I almost fall over. "Ma, guess what?" I say, and I grab the door to steady myself. "Remember I said I thought the mill was haunted 'cause—"
  But that's as far as I get. A bag of spiders explodes inside me. They race through my spine and up my neck and sink their fangs into my brain.
  This is our Castle. Our home. We're safe here. I'm safe here. Away from the alleyways and the doorways and the cans and the fighting and the shouting and the hiding and the hunger and the cold and the dark and the scary nights. She's not allowed to bring them in here. She promised.
  Monkey Man steps up into our home like he owns the place and stands there looking around. The other guy's real tall but skinny. His clothes are all too big for him. He looks like a scarecrow with glasses and straw hair.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last four paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: If anyone were watching, they'd see a girl take a deep breath and a step and then another, out of the gap in the fence and into the light and the noise and the traffic and the people.
  A friend said to me that he imagined writing must be a very lonely occupation. I replied, not at all.
  Of course I sit alone dreaming and writing and editing until I have something worth sharing. But once I do, there are a lot of people I rely on. People who assist, advise, and encourage me.
  Finally, none of this would have been possible without your support and belief in me, Bob. Perhaps there are writers that find this to be a lonely occupation. But I will forever be grateful that while I may sometimes struggle, it's never alone.