In the final section, Anderson’s focused, first-person narrative becomes more of a chorus as she recounts the stories that readers, female and male, adults but especially teenagers, have shared with her about their own experiences with sexual assault and harassment. The classroom benefit of this book is undeniable—it’s a primer on writing and on living, and both Speak and Anderson’s effect on teens has never waned. But more than that, it is a captivating, powerful read about clawing your way out of trauma, reclaiming your body, and undoing lifetimes of lessons in order to use your voice as the weapon it is. Fervent and deafening.
Part of the power of Shout — perhaps the most significant contribution of any memoir of childhood sexual assault and abuse — lies in its ability to provoke [specific kinds] of recognition among some of its readers ... If Shout only shouted, it would be sufficient as a memoir, one that is regrettably still needed today. These stories need to be told — and heard. But the book does so much more ... [Anderson] offers rich metaphors and language play to explore how someone can work through that pain — never forgetting it, never not feeling it in some way, but acknowledging it, and recognizing it in each other ... Part of what makes Shout so compelling is that Anderson gives voice to her own assault — and her attempt to recover from it — at the same time that she implicates a larger culture of patriarchal sexism in enabling such assaults ... If anything, I would have wished for more of this in Shout — not to take the place of the necessary and difficult telling of painful stories of abuse, but to offer additional ways to think about, to feel, to experience sexuality in all of its intimate, befuddling complexities. I wanted more of the poetry of creation, not just accusation, however necessary the latter is. To be fair, such a balancing act might not be appropriate yet...
SHOUT is Anderson’s reckoning; it follows a hurting cry to the universe that turns into a hard-won path to healing and ultimately unfolds into a powerful call to action ... The strengths of SHOUT lie in these foundational experiences that shaped Anderson’s career. The book falters when it strays from the title’s directive, particularly in portions of the first and third parts that meander slightly. Anderson excels when she narrows her focus, aiming her lens directly at the reader to speak about rape culture. Those who recognize their complicity in or perpetuation of it will, and should, feel uncomfortable. Those who are victims and survivors of it will be empowered by its anger and find comfort in its hope ... serves as both a testament to the life-altering, lifesaving impact of these types of stories — and as an urgent and brutal reminder of their ongoing necessity.
