Review of This Place Kills Me: A Graphic Novel by Mariko Tamaki
You know those books that nestle themselves into your heart and demand your attention? This Place Kills Me by Mariko Tamaki is one of those extraordinary reads for me, and I can’t wait to share it with you. I received an ARC and then was absolutely thrilled to get my hands on a finished copy from the publisher (thank you, thank you!), and I have to say, this is possibly my new book of everything. It’s not just another book—it’s an experience that left me so amped I needed a moment to recover before accepting the world again.
In this graphic novel, we follow a jaded, stressed-out teenager navigating the murky waters of her all-girls religious school in the 1980s. Our protagonist, Abby, is searching for answers following the death of a fellow student, all while grappling with the icy grip of homophobia and ostracization. If that premise resonates with you, buckle up—you’re in for a ride you won’t soon forget!
Tamaki’s internal narration and character interactions genuinely struck a chord with me, especially as someone who’s experienced the isolating absurdities of adolescence. It’s raw and authentic, capturing the essence of teenage angst, confusion, and bravery in the face of societal norms. You can feel every ounce of Tamaki’s passion and care in her writing, making it impossible not to connect deeply with Abby and her struggle.
The artwork elevates this novel to something truly special. While the ARC showcases compelling visuals, the finished copy dazzles with vibrant shading that adds layers to each scene. Tamaki has a keen sense of collaboration, and the breathtaking panel work throughout the graphic novel illustrates the emotion beautifully, making it both a visual and narrative feast.
The plot twists had me guessing—just when I thought I had it all figured out, I’d find myself second-guessing and feeling satisfied with the surprising yet logical conclusion. The climactic standoff between characters is essentially an explosion of teenage energy—the kind that mirrors an authentic teenage response to injustice. I was grateful for Tamaki’s commitment to unvarnished storytelling; she steers clear of convenient resolutions, instead opting for emotional truths that resonate deeply.
One of the most validating moments in the book for me—and I’m sure for many readers—comes when Abby’s friend accepts her despite her sexuality. Set against the backdrop of a less forgiving 1980s, this moment feels not only significant but profoundly real. It’s about surviving and finding acceptance in a world that doesn’t always offer it.
If you’re searching for a cathartic read that candidly depicts queer teenage experiences, you’ve just found your next obsession. While I always desire more page space for such rich narratives, here, I can’t dock any stars; it’s just that good. This is not just a graphic novel; it’s a heart-pounding emotional journey that you don’t want to miss. Tamaki never misses, and This Place Kills Me is a testament to her genius.
In conclusion, I wholeheartedly recommend this graphic novel to anyone who craves an honest, gripping story about the complexities of growing up queer in a world that feels as stifling as it is vibrant. Prepare for some visceral, unfiltered storytelling that will linger with you long after you turn the last page. Happy reading!
Discover more about This Place Kills Me: A Graphic Novel on GoodReads >>