Take a photo of a barcode or cover
livmm 's review for:
Patron Saints of Nothing
by Randy Ribay
Patron Saints of Nothing is the best YA book of the year so far.
Randy Ribay really knows how to write. His style is clear and straightforward, and the occasional figurative language never feels purple. His pacing is perfect. Jay’s journey and the lessons he learns from it are nuanced, not hamfisted. In one particular, subtle stroke of brilliance, every chapter title consists of the last words of that chapter... until, toward the end of the book, Jay grows less obsessed with Jun’s ending and begins to look to the future. Then the titling pattern changes, mirroring his shifting perspective. Details like that really make this book stand out.
What I appreciated most, however, was Ribay’s compassion for people who are so often overlooked or demonized. I am not Filipino; I have no personal experience with the war on drugs in the Philippines. But I do come from a region in America where opioid addiction runs rampant, and addiction in general runs in my family. My country has had its own war on drugs and has its own messed up preconceived notions of addicts - plenty of people here would rather a drug addict die than receive help. Of course, this book, which takes place mostly in the Philippines, is primarily about addiction and poverty there, not in America. But there’s a moment when Jay, who grew up in the States, realizes that these dangerous ideas - that addicts are societal parasites, that they deserve to be killed or at least do not deserve justice - have been ingrained in him, too, pointing toward an unfortunately universal truth.
Ribay spends the whole book challenging attitudes like this. He does so well, with tremendous empathy. His love for the Philippines - all of the Philippines, including and especially those who live on the margins - shines. This sort of work, this pushing back against the dehumanization of addicts and the impoverished, is important. It’s important, too, to center people of color, and in this case Filipino people especially, who are disproportionately affected by anti-addict policies and rhetoric.
My one quibble with this book is the quasi-romantic relationship between a seventeen- and nineteen-year-old. Jay is at the end of his senior year, so it would’ve been easy to make him eighteen and eliminate that gray area; I’m not sure why Ribay didn’t do that. Maybe because people expect YA protagonists to be 15-17? I don’t know. It was an odd choice. Also, there’s a character who switches from fifteen to sixteen and back again. That’s a small detail, though, and overall this is a fantastic book, beautiful, touching, complex in exactly the way it needs to be.
Randy Ribay really knows how to write. His style is clear and straightforward, and the occasional figurative language never feels purple. His pacing is perfect. Jay’s journey and the lessons he learns from it are nuanced, not hamfisted. In one particular, subtle stroke of brilliance, every chapter title consists of the last words of that chapter... until, toward the end of the book, Jay grows less obsessed with Jun’s ending and begins to look to the future. Then the titling pattern changes, mirroring his shifting perspective. Details like that really make this book stand out.
What I appreciated most, however, was Ribay’s compassion for people who are so often overlooked or demonized. I am not Filipino; I have no personal experience with the war on drugs in the Philippines. But I do come from a region in America where opioid addiction runs rampant, and addiction in general runs in my family. My country has had its own war on drugs and has its own messed up preconceived notions of addicts - plenty of people here would rather a drug addict die than receive help. Of course, this book, which takes place mostly in the Philippines, is primarily about addiction and poverty there, not in America. But there’s a moment when Jay, who grew up in the States, realizes that these dangerous ideas - that addicts are societal parasites, that they deserve to be killed or at least do not deserve justice - have been ingrained in him, too, pointing toward an unfortunately universal truth.
Ribay spends the whole book challenging attitudes like this. He does so well, with tremendous empathy. His love for the Philippines - all of the Philippines, including and especially those who live on the margins - shines. This sort of work, this pushing back against the dehumanization of addicts and the impoverished, is important. It’s important, too, to center people of color, and in this case Filipino people especially, who are disproportionately affected by anti-addict policies and rhetoric.
My one quibble with this book is the quasi-romantic relationship between a seventeen- and nineteen-year-old. Jay is at the end of his senior year, so it would’ve been easy to make him eighteen and eliminate that gray area; I’m not sure why Ribay didn’t do that. Maybe because people expect YA protagonists to be 15-17? I don’t know. It was an odd choice. Also, there’s a character who switches from fifteen to sixteen and back again. That’s a small detail, though, and overall this is a fantastic book, beautiful, touching, complex in exactly the way it needs to be.