This book...oh my...you just have to read it.
Intense and introspective, seventeen-year-old Hawthorne Macy knows all about being abandoned. She's felt the stark pain of being left behind by the people who are supposed to love her the most; her parents. Raised by her caring uncle on an old plantation, Hawthorne lives her life on the fringes of her small Southern town.
Until she meets his shoe.
Senior year, last period English class, and a pair of silent tennis shoes resting next to hers in the back of the room throws Hawthorne into a world she'd learned to stay outside of.
His name is Max Vincent, but in her mind, he’s Heathcliff. The handsome eighteen-year-old boy behind the shoes will pull Hawthorne into a passionate and unforgettable adventure of self-discovery during a time when love seems impossible.
Shoes can tell a lot about a person. The journey they take you on can tell a lot about how they'll hold up.
Seventeen year old Hawthorne is no stranger to pain and abandonment after being left by her parents to be raised on a southern plantation by her Uncle Gregor. It isn’t until her Senior year that she meets a pair of tennis shoes that change her world for the better. Here begins her journey into self discovery, love and a heartache she didn’t know possible. The symbolism in this book is amazing. It’s like Hawthorne’s emotions are tied to nature. She can associate all the tragic events in her life to thunderstorms. It makes her pain more tangible to the reader. Shoes play a big part as well. You wouldn’t think shoes could tell you so much about a person but to Hawthorne they do. One of my favorite quotes is from a conversation she has with Heathcliff about why she stares at his shoes and not at his face.
“Faces leave,” I mumbled. “Shoes walk away. You learn a lot about a person by what they wear on their feet. I’d rather see what’s going to leave, than what I’d missed if it left.”
What a hauntingly profound statement and yet so tragic to hear from a young woman. To have gone through life not looking at what’s around you just so you cannot miss it when it’s gone.
Don’t walk away from this review thinking this is just a heartbreaking tale about the struggles of a young girl who always seems to get the short end of the stick. This is the story of Clare “Hawthorne” Macy raised by an uncle who became a father. Lifted and carried by a town when she didn’t even know it. And savoir of one Max “Heathcliff” Vincent. The journey may have been a rough one but she didn’t do it alone. I cannot say enough great comments about R.K. Ryals and her book, Hawthorne & Heathcliff. It’s a must read for all ages. If you have never gotten a book based on my recommendation before, I implore you get this one.
There was a single whack behind me as the ax was returned to the chopping block and left there.
“You don’t talk much,” he said.
Six months of silence, of resting shoes and swift glances, and now …
“Why are you here?” I asked.
Boots moved behind me, stomping over dew-covered grass before resting next to mine. “Maybe I like quiet people,” he replied. I felt his eyes fall to my untamed hair. “You sort of intrigue me.”
My stomach clenched, my insides filling with crawling insects, and I was suddenly at a loss for words. Or maybe, I didn’t say anything because there wasn’t anything that could be said. There was nothing worth saying.
“And that’s why,” Heathcliff murmured, “your silence now. It’s as if you don’t feel the need to fill space with noise. But the one time you did speak, it meant something.” He leaned close. “What’s going on inside your head?”
My breathing grew harsh, my pulse quickening. “Are you one of those I find wounded animals to heal kind of people? I can promise you, I’m not wounded.”
My words surprised me, and for a moment, I think it did him, too.
“Maybe not,” he said finally, “but you do need a friend.”
My gaze shot to his chest, my eyes wide. “I don’t!”
He leaned against the shed, the muscles in his arms pushing against his rolled up sleeves. “Why won’t you look at me?”
I swallowed. “I know what you look like.”
“And yet you won’t look at me. Why?”
My lips curled, the smile as much a surprise as my words. “Because I don’t commit to faces.”
Heathcliff chuckled. “You only commit to shoes?”
My smile slipped. “Faces leave,” I mumbled. “Shoes walk away. You learn a lot about people by what they wear on their feet. I’d rather see what’s going to leave than what I’d miss if it left.”