Trash (review)

It's not surprising that sixteen-year-old Sissy and her younger brother, Boy, identify closely with the trash their Arkansas foster parents collect for a living, since they themselves have been treated like trash—their biological mother didn't even bother to name them, and her neglect led to their placement in foster care. Eventually fed up with the stench of garbage and their foster parents' verbal and physical abuse, Boy and Sissy run away to St. Louis to reconnect with their beloved older sister, Raynell. Once there, they find community and inspiration among a group of graffiti artists and defy the law by painting their art and their tags on the walls and water towers of the city. Then tragedy strikes when Boy tumbles to his death while trying to outrun the police, and Sissy, paralyzed with grief, chooses to remain in the city, homeless, when Raynell moves back to Arkansas. The novel's structure, a sequence of poems, mostly free verse, lends itself well both to the power of Sissy's narration and the persistent symbolism of trash that wends its way through the book—Sissy not only sifts through trash to survive but eventually finds hope (the budding artist finds an art-school brochure) in the garbage can. Though the shifts between poetic formats are sometimes disconcerting, Sissy's voice remains recognizable throughout. Fans of poetry and art alike will no doubt find inspiration in this story, while the elements of violence, sibling loyalty, grief, and survival ensure that even those readers with little patience for poetry will find themselves absorbed in Sissy's tale.