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Reviews for A Note of Madness The Guardian, 19th August 2006 Adults often want teenagers' lives to be straightforward and
protected. The trouble with life is that it's frequently neither of
those. And one trouble with life for many teenagers is the prevalence
of clinical depression. Indeed, levels of adolescent depression match
adult levels, and any teenager in a developed country is almost certain
to have a friend affected by it. When we want to understand, nothing beats a good story, and Tabitha Suzuma's A Note of Madness joins the list of good stories about depression. It's a confident debut, with much that's original, in well-controlled and unselfconscious prose. It uses none of the shock tactics of my favourite comparable stories, Robert Cormier's I Am the Cheese, Rachel Klein's The Moth Diaries or John Marsden's So Much to Tell You. Yet its straightforwardness and stylistic restraint make it equally strong. Remarkably, it's not even particularly sad, yet it is very real. Flynn is a star pianist at the Royal College of Music. Mental illness strikes during preparation for a special concert. His horror at watching himself lose control is palpable. Yet this is also a book about growing up. One of the most telling lines comes when Flynn thinks back a year: "Was I really there? he wondered. Could that have been the same me?" Teenagers change greatly in a year, and the speed of change is often disorienting. Regret for lost childhood can hurt. But Flynn is also very ill. Although the story unfolds through Flynn's eyes only, the voice is third person; this provides a slight, but useful, clinical distance from his inner confusion, as we see his "madness" partly through other people's reactions. "Rami shot her a warning look with a brief, barely perceptible shake of the head" reveals his brother's thoughts, while Flynn's lack of reaction is symptomatic itself. The cleverest trick is that somehow that most unreliable of narrative voices, the mentally ill patient, becomes a supremely reliable one. Thus the reader knows much more than Flynn, even though we are seeing through Flynn's eyes. If this book weren't so compassionate, it would be a case study, and it is indeed a clear exposition of manic depression, or bipolar illness. We even learn the specific name, bipolar two, as well as some of the drugs that treat it and the risks of taking lithium. In other hands such information could be clod-hopping, but here it feeds our fascination and feels right. It would have been easy to provide an obvious cause from Flynn's childhood - cruel/cold parents, loss of a sibling, abandonment - but there is none. Flynn has kind though helpless parents, a compassionate and knowledgeable older brother, good friends, a stable background. The message is clear: depression can affect anyone. Flynn's ups and
downs are told in detail. When he is high, pumped full of energy, we
fear for him; when he plunges into lethargy, we want to drag him from
bed, feed him, care for him. When he says, "Here's to never wanting to
get out of bed again", we feel hopeless. But when his brother replies,
"Here's to getting reacquainted with your feelings. Here's to being
able to want, without being sure you're going to get. To risk being
hurt and to risk being rejected. Here's to life," suddenly we
understand something important. A Note of Madness is much more than a
book about depression: it's about brilliance, fear, love and living.
That is its achievement, and what makes it a hearteningly good read.
 Hackwriters.com, 24th January 2006 This book needs to come with a health warning. It is so well written, that we almost become Flynn, the young music student. We almost go down into the dark spaces with him as his mental illness takes hold. Because of the age of the main protagonists, the novel will certainly appeal to young people who are in the middle of the hurly-burly of becoming adult...Suzuma accurately portrays for us Flynn’s torture. We really are sitting on his shoulder as he has sudden busts of energy which make him stay up all night, jogging through the streets of London, composing operas and revising for exams. We too want to veg out in front of the TV or keep our heads down under the duvet when the depression kicks in. As his disease takes a stronger grip, he senses the futility of life, contemplates taking his, and makes us look more closely at our own. The author has managed to capture the perspective of a young person suffering from Bipolar 2, better known as manic depression, in a much the same way as Haddon found the voice of the Asperger’s syndrome / savant in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time.
It is encouraging to see Young Adult Literature in the UK tackling some deep issues. This novel delightfully extends the range of what is available for young adults adding to an already rich mixture of chicklet-lit, gritty-but-everyday realism and fantasy. It really pushes the boundaries further than even the work of Blackman and Burgess and comes close to what is being produced in other parts of Europe. For me, this book was a real page-turner. I wanted to carry on reading – to find out if Flynn managed to come to terms with his illness, whether he ever managed to perform the Rach Three in concert, and, of course, whether he managed to get the girl... I can thoroughly recommend this book. I long to read another one equally as absorbing and fascinating. I hope Tabitha Suzuma will come up with the goods.
© Gill James |
| Write Away! 19th August 2006 Flynn's struggle with Bipolar disorder, or Manic Depression, is not only a compulsively readable story, but a convincing portrayal of a teenager's struggle with mental illness. Not only is it brave for Suzuma to tackle a subject that has up until relatively recently been a taboo area, especially for young readers, but she has managed it with such style and compassion that the novel does not end up being about an 'issue' but about a set of people that the reader is able to feel for and relate to. The majority of the book is a flashback, after a prologue in which an older Flynn sits in a psychiatrist's office thinking through the question, 'How did it all begin?' This initial insight into the fact that despite ten years having passed, Flynn is still struggling with his illness lends a somewhat dismal, if never-the-less realistic, air to the book. The journey the reader is then taken on in order to try to answer the initial question mirrors Flynn's extreme feeling of highs and lows, never quite reaching a resolution. This feeling of there never really being a 'solution' is not as difficult as it may seem and certainly not a reason for dismissing the book as unsuitable for teenage readers. Indeed, it is somewhat refreshing to find that there is no identifiable cause for Flynn's illness; no social 'ill' or family trauma to blame that carries warning messages for us all. A Note of Madness is a simply, but beautifully written story about a loving family who rally round to support and care for Flynn who has an incurable, but treatable illness. There is enough in the book for all teenagers to engage with, whether they have come into contact with metal illness or not. The depiction of student life is realistic rather than stereotypical and the supporting characters are both funny and caring. Indeed anyone who enjoys playing an instrument would enjoy the depiction of endless practices, tutorials and sheer musicianship that Suzuma paints so well. |
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Jan Mark, November 2005
Perhaps Beethoven and Schumann are the origins of the association of genius and madness - that to be supremely gifted is to be borderline insane - in the same way that Van Gogh is remembered for his insanity by people who can barely identify his paintings. This portrait of a talented young musician, while a compulsively readable story, is also a clear-sighted dismantling of the notion of divine madness on the one hand and on the other, the equally inaccurate view that depression is a self-indulgent surrender to the Black Dog. That Flynn's talent is for music is circumstantial; he could as well be an architect of an engineer - or a shelf-stacker. The fact that he is talented, the talent recognized and nurtured, that he is popular and loved, has no effect on his state of mind. Bipolar disorder is an illness that can be treated medically. What the writer puts across so well and persuasively is that the symptoms - the hideous enervating despair of the depressions, the frantic physical and creative energy of the manic phases, are unobservable to the sufferer. The memory of one does not survive in to the other. Everything is normal. How can he be ill? Why won't people just leave him alone? The correlation of the is that everyone around him is also suffering, unable to help, anymore than their sympathetic support would cure a disease or heal a wound. All they can do, in the end, is call a doctor.
I also admire particularly the way Suzuma deglamourizes both the music and the madness. One is wonderful, the other terrible, but they have nothing at all to do with one another.
© Jan Mark |
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Cherwell 24, 5th May 2006 Upon meeting new author Tabitha Suzuma it is difficult to believe that this astute, professional woman was once on the brink of suicide, plagued by clinical depression and struggling to face the thought of living through another day. As she recalls her time as a depressive it becomes clear that her debut novel, A Note of Madness, is an expression of the turbulent emotions that she herself has experienced. Indeed, she describes the process of writing the book as “very therapeutic,” a chance to give the world an insight into depression, an illness commonly dimissed or misunderstood. The story itself is one of a group of brilliant young musicians studying at the Royal College of Music. The protagonist, Flynn, suffers from bipolar disorder, and it is through him that Suzuma depicts the reality of suffering from manic depression. Aimed at teenagers, it is her hope that the book will not only educate but also strike a chord with those suffering from a similar type of condition. In particular, she wants to reach those whose depression is undiagnosed, allowing them to “put their own feelings into context and help them to identify that they’ve got a problem.” Looking beyond her own work, Suzuma believes that literature in general is “definitely one way” to change people’s perceptions of mental illness. Although things have changed for the better in the last few decades, she maintains that “there’s such a long way to go” before the taboo is fully broken down. Despite being publicised as a piece for the young adult branch of the market, she insists that it is more of a “crossover book,” engaging teenagers and adults alike. Indeed, the deeply personal nature of the novel serves to give it a certain maturity, allowing the older reader to relate to its underlying emotional complexity. This is achieved without alienating the teenage audience who, according to the author, desperately needs to be more aware of mental health issues. The book is also a particularly apt read for Oxford students who, like Flynn, are subject to intense amounts of pressure from their university. Suzuma spots the parallel herself, claiming that for people susceptible to mental illness, this stressful environment “is enough to make the difference between being OK and not being OK.” Moreover, she notes the fact that institutions such as Oxford are such that they attract those students who are likely to put pressure on themselves, even without the university’s influence. This touching book will be of great interest to any Oxford student who comprehends even a little of the mentality underlying Suzuma’s thoughtful work.
© Emma Bullimore |
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Medical Humanities, 17th May 2006
Intelligent, intense and refreshingly honest, Flynn Laukonen is the perfect protagonist for Tabitha Suzuma's beautifully-written debut novel. Entitled A Note of Madness, the narrative is centred around a perfectionist pianist, burdened by the expectations experienced when studying in a 'place where everyone strides with purpose'. Faced with the challenges of independent living and university life, Flynn experiences an awkwardness compounded by a range of emotions and actions which perplex both himself and those who care for him. Set at South Kensington's other competitive college, the story offers refreshing insights into the poorly-described condition of bipolar affective disorder, taken from both the doctor and patient perspectives. The transition between monologue and narrative is especially effective in portraying the difficulties, and indeed, the confusion felt by Flynn and those around him. The use of monologue enhances the immediacy, capturing the awkwardness that characterises Flynn's disposition. This immediacy, depicted in carefully-chosen jargon-free prose makes the experience of his 'madness' infinitely easier to understand. Words cannot describe how lucid and readable this story is. Given that one in four people in the UK suffers from a mental health problem, millions of us are going to either live with depression or a depressive personality sooner or later. A little understanding, (given the difficulties faced in getting emotional disturbances explored in a sympathetic manner) will go a very long way. Highly recommended. © Sajini Wijetilleka |
| Tabitha Suzuma has used the wonderfully rich character of Flynn to
tell a moving account of young people and the effect of mental illness
on their lives. Flynn has bipolar disorder, which is only diagnosed
during the story. As his life starts to unravel we are at first not
sure why the talented pianist, who is a student at the Royal Academy of
Music in London, is behaving in such an erratic way. Life is busy for
Flynn anyway; he lives with a flatmate in London and has a busy
schedule of lectures and practice with exams looming. His Professor
wants him to play at the Royal Albert Hall to represent the Academy but
this adds yet another pressure to a young man who will soon be at
breaking point.
The third person narration gives the reader a broad perspective of all the elements of Flynn's life; from his friendships, his family relationships, his passion for music (which almost becomes his undoing) and his reflections on how difficult emotional development can be for many young people as they venture out into the adult world and form their own personal relationships. We see the full effects of bipolar disorder from the early signs: the refusal to accept the possibility of mental illness and the first attempts on medication only to give up because of the side effects; nothing is spared. Tabitha Suzuma ensures that the reader develops empathy as the story progresses. All who read this story will come away with a deeper understanding of mental illness; it will help us regard it with the same compassion as we would a physical illness. As the book touches on some very sensitive issues, including Flynn considering taking his own life, it is best suited to older adolescents. © Claire Russell, Wangaratta High School, Australia Flynn’s at university, studying performance piano. He’s got a great group of friends; he’s in a good university, doing well in his courses and flats with his best friend. Everything’s going just fine for Flynn, so how come all of a sudden, things are falling apart? Wow, I really enjoyed this book, way more than I expected to! I mean, the idea of reading a book when the main character is falling apart seems like a really depressing thing to do. But actually, it wasn’t. It was fascinating to read about what was happening to Flynn, and what was going on in his head at the same time. Even though I’ve never felt as extreme as that, I could actually relate to some of what was going on for Flynn. It sort of put some things in perspective for me too. And I even was in to the story so much that at one point, in response to the story I was actually saying out loud “No Flynn, no!” Do you have to be crazy to get this book? No, not at all. But if you’ve ever found things getting on top of you, or you know someone who finds things too tough sometimes, then you’ll be able to relate to parts of this story. Does it have a sad ending? No, it has a real ending, one where Flynn finally works out what it’s all about, and with the help of others, recognizes some changes he needs to make in his attitude to life. And when he does, the world stops being so difficult to live in… © S. McGivern, King's College, New Zealand |
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| Reviews for From Where I Stand  The Bookbag, April 2007 Raven is a deeply unhappy teenager. Fresh from a children's home, where he has been since he witnessed the death of his mother, Raven is taciturn, sullen, isolated. His new foster family, the Russells, are earnest, hopeful and kindly people, but they are up against the blank brick wall of Raven's alienation. They try their best, but they fear that reaching Raven and forming any real connection with him is going to be an uphill struggle. At his new school, the usual bullies make Raven's life the usual misery. He retreats to his room as often as he can. And once there, he finds his penknife and cuts his arms. This pain, heartbreakingly, is the only thing that makes the other pain even close to bearable. And then Raven makes a friend. Together with Lotte, he sets out to put an end to his pain. If Raven can track down his mother's killer and expose him, he believes he'll be able to start his life again. If only it were that easy. At one point, I had to put down From Where I Started because my eyes were full of tears. Much as I wanted to read on, the blurred page wouldn't let me. Suzuma put me right inside Raven's head - so busy with fear and hurt and confusion on the inside and so stony and impassive on the outside. I finished the book, far too late for my 42-year-old, have-to-be-up-to-make-breakfast bedtime, and crawled into bed with an indelible picture of the grief-paralysed, alienated Raven imprinted on my mind. As a portrait of a damaged adolescent struggling with his mental health, I found it sensitive, powerful and heartrending. As a psychological thriller, it was perhaps slightly less successful - if the mystery is really what you're after. There are lots of clues and I'd guessed the truth behind Raven's mother's death fairly early on in the book. I'm notoriously slow at that kind of thing, so I don't think many youngsters over twelve would be far behind me. But I don't think it really matters either way. What matters is the clear-sighted patience in which Suzuma explains and unravels the mystery with honesty and care and gentle kindness, but without ever losing the pace and tension in the plotting. I thought the whole book was a remarkable achievement, and there are a whole bunch of adult writers in this popular psychological thriller market who could learn a lesson or two from it. There is an understanding of both character and crisis here that you don't find often. Highly recommended for all sophisticated readers over twelve who
enjoy contemporary settings, a realistic emotional landscape and
strong, thrilling plotlines. The Birmingham Post, June 2007 Books for Keeps, July 2007 This book is a psychological thriller. It is very readable, mostly on account of its emotional poignancy, which grabs the reader's attention. The story ends with a twist that few readers will have foreseen. Suzuma enables a reader to understand the difficulties of the traumatised Raven, without making it comfortable to be in his presence. Ella, the five-year-old daughter of his foster parents, sometimes penetrates his loneliness with her childish innocence. Suzuma manages convincingly to introduce the reader into Raven's lonely world... Ultimately this is a book about guilt and redemption, as well as a deeply compelling read. © Books for Keeps
Tabitha Suzuma's second novel is a stunner. Raven is a deeply disturbed teenager in foster care. As the story progresses the reader finds out more of what has his distress, but at first only through Raven's eyes. It has amazing portrayal of character: Raven, his foster parents and foster sister, the school bullies and Lotte who befriends him are all wonderfully drawn, and the climax of the book is beautifully written. Revealing too much plot would give away necessary tension, but this is a wonderful teenage read. It reminds me slightly of David Almond's books in that although it doesn't shy away from blackness, it is ultimately life-affirming. © Malcolm McEwan Tabitha Suzuma has the rare skill to breathe such life and motivation into her characters that they burn bright and indelibly upon the brain. In “From Where I Stand”, Raven is suffering severe trauma that drives a wedge between himself and others. His resultant vulnerability leads to his being taunted at school. Raven’s grief, despair and guilt moves through stages as the novel progresses. He denies the reality of what has happened, weaving around himself a protective film of lies and half-truths. Though the stigma of mental health problems are encountered through the levels of misunderstanding and of miscomprehension that surround Raven, the mind is depicted here as resilient, strong and in a process of renewal and of resolution. Suzuma’s willingness to draw from a reservoir of biographical experience to colour her characters with credibility makes this a courageous novel and, in an age when one in four people experience mental health problems throughout their lives, a highly worthwhile and contemporaneous one also. © Jacob Hope, Achuka From Where I Stand is a riveting read on two levels: as an edgy psychological thriller and also as an exploration of the depths of despair that an outsider suffering from mental health problems can suffer. Raven, deeply disturbed after seeing his mother die, has been placed in foster care with the Russells. Withdrawn and unable to communicate, he finds it difficult to connect with the family and resorts to cutting himself with a penknife to take away the pain inside his head. At school he is cruelly bullied by two of his classmates. However, Lotte, bored with her girlfriends, befriends him and together they decide to trap his mother's killer. Suzuma's exciting plot carries the reader along as Raven and Lotte skip school and plan dangerous ways of trying to make their suspected murderer confess to the murder of Raven's mother. At the same time the author tackles some really big issues like depression, bullying and suicide. A visit to the author's website gives insights into why she tackles such gritty and painful subjects. The bullying scenes leave the reader gasping with sympathy for Raven and what he endures. Suzuma sensitively portrays Raven's withdrawal into himself and his spiralling descent into depression. The caring nature of Dan, his foster father, and the exuberance of Ella, the five-year-old daughter of his foster parents, counterbalance this. This is a stunning novel with a major twist to the story. What is so clever is the author's ability to keep her reader gasping with the thrill of chasing a killer, while getting inside the head of a grief-stricken teenager. It is highly recommended for teens who like their thrillers moving and thought-provoking. © Pat Pledger After the success of her first book "A Note Of Madness", Tabitha Suzuma's second book is the poignant story of a teenager struggling to cope with his grief. Raven is a teenager that anyone could identify with; a stony exterior masks the inner turmoil he suffers every day following his mother's murder. Placed into foster care, his new family and new school only make things worse until a friend comes along in the unexpected shape of Lotte and together they hatch a plan to confront his mother's killer. Only things aren't as simple as they seem. This is a story that draws you in compulsively from the first chapter, plot twists are hinted at but it ultimately keeps you guessing right up to the last page. You grow to really care for Raven as he struggles to find solace and an end to the sense of loss that he carries around with him. Good psychological thrillers are few
and far between for the teenage market and this has to be one of the
best. Major issues such as bullying, grief and truth are handled
sensitively and without judgment. A totally absorbing read and worthy
follow up to her first book. Reviews for A Voice in the Distance
Well, I think Aidan Chambers has finally been knocked off his spot. For the last six years, his Postcards from No-man’s Land has been my all-time favourite book. Admittedly, this was followed quite closely by Tabitha Suzuma’s A Note of Madness. But now A Voice in the Distance seems to outshine them both.  The efficacy of Tabitha Suzuma’s A Voice in the Distance extends from her richly detailed portrayal of Flynn whose loves, fears and losses are convincingly depicted. Use of the dual narrative device provides insight into the minds of the afflicted and those surrounding them. With studies showing one in ten children have a mental health disorder, this is a topical and reflective book with an emotional range that aids a breadth of understanding. © Jake Hope, The Bookseller I can't remember the last book that made me cry - actually shed a tear
- so A Voice in the Distance must have had a very powerful effect on me indeed.
It is the sequel to A Note of Madness and continues the story of Flynn, a music
student at the Royal
College, but the story is
strong enough to stand on its own merits and requires no previous knowledge.
Flynn and Jennah are in their last year at the RCM and Flynn, having been
relatively stable for a while, is starting to lose control of his bipolar
disorder, mainly through refusing to take his medicine. The result is an
inevitable (and all the more powerful because of it) descent into bouts of
full-blown manic depression, and I found my toes curling of their own accord when
Flynn decides to 're-paint' his best friend's room. Interestingly, I found the
character of Jennah somewhat frustrating although I cannot say why; her actions
are all too believable as she struggles with her love for Flynn balanced
against her wish that he should just be 'normal'. Their relationship was never
going to be easy, but the end of the book was handled so beautifully that I
couldn't help but be totally convinced. A Voice in the Distance is a real
achievement, handled with skill and compassion, and Suzuma's writing is clearly
going from strength to strength. The mysteries of love are also probed in Tabitha Suzuma's A Voice in the Distance, the emphasis being once again on its delight and its despair. Flynn, its hero, combines being a brilliant classical pianist with being a sufferer from manic depression, an illness which is finally to drive him towards self-destruction; his girlfriend, Jennah, must cope. Psychosis, breakdowns, a spell in a psychiatric hospital are all part of the young man's existence but so also is the promise of a glittering musical career. Some sacrifices have to be made. With events narrated alternately, and equally convincingly, by Flynn and Jennah, Suzuma's novel effectively demonstrates that real love, sometimes, will involve setting the loved one free. © Robert Dunbar, The Irish Times What the readers thought: I read A Voice in the Distance in 2.25 hours exactly - that's how fab it was. I've read all 3 of Tabitha's books and I can definitely say it is one of the best I've ever read. Flynn is such an immense character. I actually feel as if I can really relate to him. My problems haven't been as bad as his, but I have had a mild version of what he goes through. I felt so sorry for Jennah as it must be so tough having to deal with a boyfriend who's completely different and alien to what you really love about them. I have to say, this book did make me cry a bit at the end. I know not all books have a happy ending, this certainly wasn't, then I guess it sort of was at the same time, but I just couldn't stand Flynn being in such pain because when he went to the concert at the end of the story and saw Jennah so happy with people crowding around her and telling her how brilliant she was, it just felt like he'd lost a part of him. This is why there definitely must be a next book to continue the story. I'm so eager to know what happens with Flynn and Jennah.....or at least I hope something happens between Flynn and Jennah. I might only be thirteen, but I do know that this is one of the best books I've ever read and also, just to show off a bit, I've actually read the book three times, seriously. It might be strange, but I really did love that book so much. So, I think I've pretty much said everything that needed to be said. A Voice in the Distance is the deepest and best-written book about depression ever. I definitely recommend this to anyone. I mean, maybe not to little kids, but teenagers and adults should definitely read this book because its truthful and really makes you think and want to read more! (Stephanie) I've read a fair few books in my time, but none have encapsulated me as much as this one. From the moment I read its prequel, I knew I'd stumbled upon something magnificent, and was overjoyed at the prospect of another, and low and behold it came. I was unsure of how well the dual narrative would work at first, but after the first two chapters, my suspicions were disintegrated by Suzuma's sheer description of both character's feelings. I can't remember the last time I've felt so close to a book before; like I was a character in it myself. Many times, I felt myself crying with both Jennah and Flynn and praying that things would work how I wanted them to. One thing I have noticed about A Voice in the Distance, compared to A Note of Madness, is the increase of description, particularly in the moments between the lead characters. This adds so much depth to the story, almost like another colour to a painting. My heart beats fast at the racy parts, and stops at the shocking parts, just as it should. This book has really touched me, in more ways than one. I identified with the first book a great deal, and felt more attached with this one as the story unfolded. The constant yo-yo-ing of happiness and sadness was almost a direct representation of myself in some ways, but intensified a lot more. I implore anybody who has read the first book, someone suffering from any form of depression, or someone looking for a good book to read, to buy this one. (Luke Davis) Told from both their points of view, we enter Flynn and Jennah's lives in their final year at the Royal College of Music; they are still together and Flynn's future looks promising, with a string of concerts lined up for when he graduates; things seem perfect. However, perfection cannot last... As a reader, you spot the signs that Flynn is slipping and I found myself wanting to scream, desperately wishing that someone would stop him self-destructing before it was too late. I sympathized with all the characters, but I love Flynn and found myself frustrated with Jennah, wishing that she could be stronger for him, even though I know she tried her best. The fact that Suzuma can evoke such strong emotions in me is a sign of a great writer who understands where her characters are coming from. I was gripped throughout this story, needing to discover what was to become of their relationship, and perhaps more importantly for me, Flynn's life. The sacrifices that are made are painful, but also make me love Flynn even more. When I first stumbled upon and read `A Note of Madness', I loved it so much I immediately ordered a second copy for a friend who had been through something similar. After reading this book on a recent flight, I think I will be doing the same. As an aside, although this book may be listed as 'young adult', I would urge people of all ages to explore it as I have no doubt older readers (like myself) will enjoy it. (Jane Dudeney) After being infatuated by A Note of Madness I could not wait to read the sequel! Right from the beginning I was gripped and with both Jennah's and Flynn's take on the situation a much broader picture of living with Bipolar disorder is created. Continuing on from Flynn's struggle with Bipolar disorder in A note of madness we can now see more clearly the effect it has on other people. I really feel I can connect with Jennah, not only because of the vivid crystal clear descriptions but because to some extent I can also understand the struggle she must face living with someone with Bipolar disorder. My lifelong friend was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder last year and reading A Note of Madness and A Voice in the Distance have helped both of us no end. I can understand the way he feels and thinks more and I find A Voice in the Distance much more informative and helpful than a non-fiction text about Bipolar disorder as you really feel you are in the book, standing in for one of the characters. The book is full of ups and downs reflecting the mood swings; the manias and depressions of someone with Bipolar. I felt myself being lifted when Flynn was acting 'normally' and then dropped back down when things between Jennah and Flynn went bad in their relationship. I got really into it, the way a book should make you feel. I can recommend this book to anyone, the beautiful writing of Suzuma can make anyone understand the pain of having to either live with or live with someone with Bipolar disorder. (Freya) I really loved this book, after waiting what has seemed like years for the sequel to A Note of Madness to arrive on my doorstep, I opened it thinking "What if it doesn't live up to the first book?" But quickly I found myself back into Flynn's world but this time told between his and Jennah's points of view, making the book impossible to put down. After getting really into the book you are overwhelmed with the characters feelings, (something that many authors struggle to do) and you find yourself crying, smiling and becoming lapped up in the spiral of the story. An amazing read, definitely recommended. (Karen Warren) I was already a huge fan of Flynn after I read A Note of Madness, and was delighted to see him begin a new journey. As a sufferer of mental illness myself, I could really be sympathetic towards Flynn's broken mind, and Tabitha does a great job of bringing his characterisation to life. Her use of language displays Flynn's feelings and physicality brilliantly. I particularly liked the constant changing of viewpoint between Flynn and Jennah. That gave the story an effective and consistent change of mood and tone. Tabitha has certainly put together a page-turning plotline with twists and turns at every corner. Her use of imagery is stunning. I particularly liked the tranquil images of the swans on the lake at the beginning of the story, and, additionally, all the beautiful imagery of music and the arts. Tabitha's voice spoke to me like no other writer. She most definitely touched my heart, and gave me hope that the bad times with my illness will soon pass. With page-turning plotlines, vivid images, tear-jerking conversations and a true understanding of the world of mental illness, I definitely recommend A Voice in the Distance, and hope Flynn's life continues with a third story. Buy it and be stunned and surprised, having the tissues at the ready. A top, first-class piece of creativity and creative writing. (Daniel Edlin) After stumbling upon A Note of Madness, the prequel to this captivating novel, I was instantly drawn into the drama of the story that the author so realistically tells. Flynn Laukonen is a talented pianist, studying at the prestigious Royal College of Music, who happens to have Bipolar Disorder. This book continues the story two and a half years later when Flynn, his girlfriend Jennah (finally!) and best friend Harry are entering their final year of university. The great thing about this book is that it could definitely be read as a stand-alone novel, though I recommend reading the prequel as I believe it gives you more of a connection with the characters - you know their history. A difference though is that the book has been written from two perspectives- both Flynn and Jennah's. This allows the reader to not only really understand what Flynn is thinking when none of the other characters can, but also see how it affects his girlfriend. This is brilliant as mental illness, as I personally know, has an impact not only on the individual but the family and friends as well. This book truly is an emotional rollercoaster. One minute I felt like yelling at Flynn in frustration, the next I was positively beaming with happiness. There are lots of funny parts, too, to balance out the more serious chapters. It is also important to note that this book isn't just about Bipolar! It should be read by anyone going through relationship troubles, anyone stressing over exams (I being one such person), anyone going through everyday life! It is a book that everyone can take something from. The book has left me on tenterhooks-I need to know what happens next! - And I thank Ms Suzuma for, yet again, making this book definitely worth the wait. (Simone Vibert) There aren't many books that can make peoples' hearts beat fast and feel so clued in with the book. This is one of these books. The story was set and told by both Jennah and Flynn, alternating between them. Flynn's mania and depression were shown from two points of view, which I found great. I know books about people with depression, but they're not looking very much at the effect on the closest people, or from the person's point of view. It's then so much easier to understand why Flynn acts how he does, because if his feelings weren't shown we'd assume he was a prat to put it bluntly. I was practically tearing my hair out with impatience when Jennah didn't realize what was happening, and I was cringing with embarrassment for her at other times. I realized, whilst reading, that my heart was racing, and i felt like destroying the phone for ringing whilst i was reading. But I felt so involved with the story, and can't wait to exhaust my friends by talking about it as much as i did with the previous book, A Note Of Madness. I really felt for Flynn, and all he had to put up with, and also how Jennah was, living and loving someone with Bipolar. It is a true and strong book. This is a truly unbelievably amazing book, that I'd recommend for older readers. (Caitlin McIarty) |
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