BookBrowse Reviews Saints of the Household by Ari Tison

BookBrowse:

A raw, impactful look at brotherhood and the burden of inherited violence.

In Ari Tison's young adult novel Saints of the Household, brothers Max and Jay have always been close, largely due to their shared determination to protect their mother from their physically abusive father. Born less than a year apart, both are preparing to finish their senior year of high school in Minnesota when they stumble upon an altercation between their classmate Nicole and her boyfriend Luca, the school's widely adored star soccer player. Recognizing a little too much of their father's abusive ways in Luca's tone towards Nicole, the brothers intervene and soon beat him to a pulp. From here, they must navigate the resulting fallout, the impact their actions could have on their futures, and the painful realization that they may not be so different from their father after all.

The narrative is told from the perspectives of both brothers. Jay's sections are presented as brief vignettes of prose, written in short, punchy sentences. This does well to reflect the stifling pressure he feels to safeguard his mother, and the way this sense of duty leaves him unable to imagine a better future, tethering him to a life in the here and now.

"When it's dark enough, I go back into the house. I sleep in the living room. I tell Max in my head over and over again, I am living. I'm just having a hard time. I'm messed up, and I've got nothing. Now I have less."

Max, by contrast, is more of a dreamer. To reflect this, his sections are written in an expressive form of free verse. Determined to make a success of his relationship with his new girlfriend, he also hopes to get into art school so he can seek a fresh start away from the cycle of violence at home.

"I am not really sure how to tell about art.

If I wasn't trying to keep my cool, I'd tell her everything.

I would say that I'd die for art.
I'd tell her how much I love

the trees, how color is like

music.

How much I hunger

for that feeling of dreaming

when I walk into the studio."

As their differing priorities become increasingly apparent, resentment grows between the once inseparable brothers. This forces both to consider the line between familial duty and chasing one's own future.

The brothers' Indigenous Costa Rican heritage is woven into the narrative through their close relationship with their grandfather, who shows them that, as descendants of the matriarchal Bribri (see Beyond the Book) on their mother's side, a different way of being than the one demonstrated by their father is achievable. They hold a deep respect for their grandfather. His calm, wise, loving, sensitive nature serves as a stark contrast to their father's anger and aggression, proving that a lineage of toxic masculinity is not inevitable.

Though the focus on character and emotion over action is refreshing for a YA novel, it would have benefited from a greater sense of climax. Some of the storyline that provides mounting tension throughout much of the book is wrapped up very quickly with little lasting impact. It feels like there is some missed potential here, with one plot point ultimately serving more as a device to introduce the core themes than a fully realized and satisfyingly resolved thread.

Still, the novel is successful in its bid to pose important questions about the justification of violence, and the self-reflection necessary to break harmful patterns of behavior.

This review first ran in the April 19, 2023 issue of BookBrowse Recommends.