Melissa Chadburn’s brilliant and terrifyingly honest debut novel, A Tiny Upward Shove, has a moment of such...horror that I was once again tempted to skip the whole story ... The power of A Tiny Upward Shove rests in her insistence that even the murdered had agency in their lives, no matter how forgotten or lost to themselves and society ... Perhaps it’s her drive to amplify every voice that leads Chadburn to a risky and not always successful choice. She covers not just multiple narrators and perspectives, but multiple ways of setting them up and setting them apart ... the narrative pastiche can be confusing, especially in close proximity to traumatic episodes. Don’t let the confusion—or the trauma—stop you short. Pick the novel back up again, as I did. There are payoffs and compensations ... Chadburn has written a stunning debut novel about the hardest things, drawing on style, study and tough experience to make it impossible for us to look away.
... actively works to balance sensitivity and realism ... skillfully folds a character-centered story about a biracial young woman’s fate into the real-life crimes of a Canadian serial killer. In creating a fictional character within a factual scenario, there is no ethically questionable retelling of a victim’s reality, but rather an acknowledgement of missing stories ... is at its best during these brief asides, which combine moments of heightened tension of the narrative past with observations and scenes that provide clues to readers wondering both how the characters got to where they are and what will happen next. This offers a similar gratification to true crime fans, who might actively collect evidence to solve the murder as the narrative unfolds. Chadburn’s unique voice, too, shines in these standalone passages ... run-on sentences create a playful and intense tone at once, favoring a punk ethos as chapters swing back and forth among memories of joy or heartbreak. Acts of sexual assault and homicide and addictive behavior are not sugar-coated—the details are grueling to read. Yet what violence is included feels necessary rather than gratuitous for the sake of shock value. The reality is that violence will be jarring no matter the situation; its occurrence cannot be written off as an isolated event. Nor is it merely an effect of poor decisions ... If any aspect of this novel veers away from the fine line of realism and storytelling, it’s the final pages. Fiction readers like myself can find comfort in a satisfactory ending, but a tidy conclusion might also feel disingenuous to the reality it represents ... as sensational as it is heartbreaking because it does what true crime narratives sometimes forget to do, which is leave space for loss. The novel does not ask us to solve a crime, fictional or otherwise.
... bold, sharp, fast-paced ... The prose plunges fearlessly, restlessly, often violent, sometimes playful ... The simultaneity of antagonism and love are rendered beautifully and painfully between the two ... At the Pines, Chadburn writes, 'the girls carried their resentments forever. They burned and burned with no end in sight.' This ferocious and frightening novel documents the burn.
It is a wild and ambitious conceit, but it succeeds because of the exuberance of the aswang’s voice and the richness of the details ... the women are vivid: their hair and jewelry and clothes, their preoccupations and mannerisms ... The horrors Alex in particular endures are lurid and hard to read. But the book is rescued by a joy evident in the writing, something ablaze at its core. It burns.
Chadburn pitches words with the intensity and speed of Zeus hurling lightning bolts ... Chadburn’s aswang mixes English and Tagalog and speaks with an acid tongue — full of insight, compassion, and unflinching observations ... Investigative smarts and journalistic advocacy are not always ingredients for great literature...Chadburn, however, successfully bridges these worlds ... Chadburn inhabits her novel with ease, pulling off blistering fiction while hewing to ugly realities dredged up through her journalism ... an accomplished debut novel that will grab readers by the collar and shake them out of complacency. It is a shouted remembrance to those silenced by misogyny, racism, and violence, but it is also fantastic literature, penned by a writer with tremendous heart and skill.
... thoughtfully episodic, structured as a series of little and big horrors that build to a devastating present ... The novel’s lyrical viscosity and stunning rhythms are immediately apparent ... This is writing that announces immediately it will pull no punches and then abides by the rubric it has fashioned for itself. Brutality is intertwined with humor and some crackling linguistic effects. Even at its most pitiless, the narrative maintains a steadfast frankness, keeping a 'floodlight' on the cruelty that is often directed at children. Any opportunity for sentimentality is cut short by brusque matter-of-factness. Marina’s life is explored in visceral, embodied language, but so too is Willie’s—there are no jump cuts away ... A novel this forthright about child abuse, rape, addiction, poverty, and murder is, of course, marked by bleakness and a justified anger at a world in which girls and women, especially poor ones, face grave sexual violence and injustice, too often perpetuated by men who are themselves neglected or abused. It is hard to look away but also painful to continue .... Finally, however, A Tiny Upward Shove is powerful not so much because of the harrowing intensity of its trauma but because of its dagger-sharp voice and Chadburn’s startling talent for calling up base notes of death and decay within not only vibrant sentences but also longer narrative arcs. Like many brilliant works of fiction, its artistry lies in the fusing of linguistic and plot choices with enduring motifs. The book is marked by both tremendous knowledge and astonishing imagination: in her critique of our world and its injustices, Chadburn enacts the ferocity we imagine an aswang would have. It’s extraordinary, propulsive: unputdownable, as they say. And while Chadburn’s debut possesses a kind of doomed, spellbinding inevitability, it also lends a flicker of light, a barely perceptible flutter of heart, to something that seemed broken, wounded like the bird in the heater, beyond repair.
Unforgettable opening paragraph ... This is a novel equal parts spellbinding and disturbing ... Bold debut ... A Tiny Upward Shove is a slow, measured novel, unconcerned with traditional pacing or plot ... Some of the novel’s most memorable moments come from Chadburn’s willingness to take her time ... Her descriptions of food are also vivid and moving ... These pleasurable moments contrast with the novel’s more difficult scenes ... But although A Tiny Upward Shove has a crucial message about those denied by society, it should not be taken as an allegory. To categorize the novel is to rob it of its complexity and power. A Tiny Upward Shove is best appreciated by letting its language sing.
... electrifying ... A warning feels necessary here: indeed, the violence is graphic and relentless. And yet bearing witness seems equally mandatory: Chadburn's concluding author's note reveals that her fiction is 'inspired by all-too-real events'; this horror is reality, especially for girls and women of color, in that the novel's murderer has an actual counterpart (with the same name) who admitted to butchering 49 victims. As an activist, Chadburn--who experienced foster care herself--has reported extensively on the child welfare system, grounding her novel in what she's seen, what children and adults have (not) survived, what the voiceless cannot say. Writing with remarkable grace, even surprising moments of transporting joy, Chadburn creates a miraculous literary platform to claim these missing stories.
At times, Melissa Chadburn’s debut novel is almost painfully difficult to read. It’s not because the language is obscure or complex, and it’s not because the imagery is confusing or the sentence structure too dense. Rather, at certain points, the sheer weight of the violence, disappointment and heartbreak that Chadburn writes about becomes nearly too much to bear, especially once readers realize that much of what she chronicles is based on real-life tragedies ... richly textured ... may sound unrelentingly bleak, with its graphic and upsetting descriptions of rape, child abuse and blatant abuses of power wielded primarily by men against women and girls who are marginalized by virtue of their gender, race and/or immigration status. But, as the relationship between Marina and Alex demonstrates most poignantly, it’s also a celebration of the ways in which love and loyalty can persist and grow despite the desolation and violence that surrounds it.
Harrowing debut ... One could very well start a review at the novel’s beginning, mid-femicide, steeped in detritus and death. Or one might start with the novel’s mythological elements. But either approach could risk downplaying the fact that much of the novel dwells in small moments ... The narrative follows a distinctly downward spiral, dizzying and unrelenting ... Chadburn’s descriptions repeat and accumulate, a nauseating thrum of glazed eyes, needles, scabs, and rape—a wrecking numbness of people muddling through, sinking, and suffering.
... moving but disturbing ... impressive ... Chadburn’s prose is sometimes lovely, always compelling, and she handles multiple storylines skillfully. Marina is engaging and heartbreaking, and other characters are vividly portrayed as well—including Pickton. The novel is a relentless revelation of the everyday exploitation of girls and women, but readers should be aware that it describes rape and other forms of violence in horrific detail, over and over ... A dark, powerful novel traces the trajectory of a murder victim’s life.
