Whidbey by T Kira Madden

Birdie Chang didn’t know anything about Whidbey Island when she chose it, only that it was about as far away as she could get from her own life. She’s a woman on the run, desperate for an escape from the headlines back home and the look of concern in her girlfriend’s eyes—and from Calvin Boyer, the man who abused her as a child and who’s now resurfaced. On her way, she has an unnerving encounter with a stranger on the ferry who offers her a proposition, a sinister solution and plan for revenge.

But Birdie isn’t the only girl Calvin harmed back then. There’s also Linzie King, a former reality TV star who recently wrote all about it in her bestselling memoir. Though the two women have never met, their stories intertwine. Once Birdie arrives on Whidbey, she finally cracks the book’s spine, only to find too much she recognizes in its pages. Soon after, on the other side of the country, Calvin’s loving mother, Mary-Beth, receives a shocking phone call from the police: her only son has been murdered.

Calvin’s death sets into motion a series of events that sends each woman on a desperate search for answers. A complex whodunit told from alternating points of view, Whidbey is searingly perceptive and astonishingly original. Exploring the long reach of violence and our flawed systems of incarceration and rehabilitation, this is a tense and provocative debut that’s sure to incite crucial questions about the pursuit of justice and who has real power over a story: the one who lives it, or the one who tells it?

How I heard about it

This was a book I saw circulating around Bookstagram earlier this year. The premise intrigued me, and even though I knew it would be a heavy read, I picked it up during a Barnes & Noble visit anyway.

The Story

Birdie Chang runs off to Whidbey Island on her own to get off-grid. She's there to get away from the publicity of an old case — the one in which she was the child victim of a pedophile — resurfaced after another victim, Linzie King, released a memoir detailing her experiences. She's there to escape Calvin, her abuser, who has been sending threatening emails. She also wants to get away from her girlfriend's concern.

Shortly after Birdie arrives at Whidbey, news about Calvin's murder reaches Calvin's mother, Mary-Beth, who then tries to seek justice for a son the justice system has little concern for.

About halfway through the book, we're introduced to Linzie's perspective. Turns out it's not as straightforward as the story of a victim simply wanting to tell her side of the story, but rather, a sobering reveal of a victim being revictimised by those who would exploit her story for their own gains.

The lives of Birdie, Mary-Beth, and Linzie intertwine through their unwillingly shared experience of Calvin. They all have different perspectives and ways of coping with what happened. The far-reaching consequences of such a crime are poignantly presented, not only for the victims, but for the ones who love(d) them.

The mystery of who killed Calvin is on all three characters' minds, but ultimately isn't super important to what the book is trying to say.

Overall

It goes without saying that this is an incredibly dark book. There is no light in it, so don't expect that. It also doesn't feel right to say whether I liked or disliked it. I don't think it's the sort of book where I can really say that. I think it's an important book. I'm glad it's in the world. I also wouldn't want to read it again.

I've thought a lot about narrative, truth, and who gets to tell a story. In Whidbey, Linzie's memoir stirs controversy because she shares details about other victims, including Birdie, without permission. While she uses pseudonyms for them, Birdie still recognises herself, and that alone re-traumatises her. Simultaneously, a podcast host keeps contacting people related to the case(s), claiming to give them a voice and opportunity to share their sides of the story. The commercialisation of trauma is a huge theme in the book, especially as we learn what is actually going on behind Linzie's memoir.

Birdie chooses not to share her experience in any manner, electing to stay hidden and anonymous. Linzie chooses the opposite (or so it seems).

Mary-Beth was probably the most interesting character to me. She was infuriating in her single-minded defense of Calvin—a convicted pedophile. I can't say I sympathise with her, but I do understand. Criminal or not, Mary-Beth saw Calvin as her son; she knew him as her baby, as a whole person. I don't think she was in denial of his crimes. Rather, I think she advocated for his right to dignity.

I'm conflicted about Mary-Beth, just as I am about all the characters. None of them are likable, but they're understandable. That takes a lot of skill.

Even though I read this book in March (two months before writing this review), I haven't stopped thinking about it. Whidbey forces the reader to take a good look at the madness of consuming others' trauma in the form of true crime. This isn't a new topic, but by placing us in the heads of the victims, Madden puts a mirror before us and shines a glaring light at it.

Who would like this: fans of literary fiction that doubles as social commentary—specifically around trauma, true crime, and narrative ownership, moral ambiguity, unlikable but deeply human characters, Yellowface by R.F. Kuang