Favorite Quote:
“Thousands of years ago, when Uranus was forming, something, and we’re not sure what, smashed into it. The impact was so forceful that its axis tilted by ninety-eight degrees. It still spins but on its side. There’s no other planet in our solar system that’s tilted that much.”
I look at her. “That’s you. You took a hit, it knocked you off your axis, but you keep spinning no matter what.”
That has to be one of the most beautiful and unique ways I’ve ever seen someone describe surviving hardship. You may never be the same after what you’ve been through, but you keep going anyway. That quote alone will stay with me for a long time.
This was my first book by Terah Shelton Harris, and I absolutely loved it. I went into this one completely blind because I wanted a summer read. What I didn’t realize was that I had unknowingly signed up for another story about trauma, healing, and forgiveness. 😭😂
Sara’s journey wasn’t easy, and I honestly kept asking myself, Could I move forward the way she did? I’m still not sure. Her story was uniquely hers, but I’ve always appreciated books that show love can exist even after unimaginable pain.
One of my favorite parts was how poetry was woven throughout the story. It added so much emotion and depth. The only thing I wanted more of was for Sara’s father to speak from his own heart instead of leaning on poetry so often. And Jacob… your mother was truly something else. So was your brother. 😩
Watching both Sara and Jacob learn to heal, grow, and forgive made this story incredibly rewarding.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 5/5
I already own two more books by this author, and after this one, I can’t wait to read them.
The impact of trauma and the path to healing are deeply personal yet universally resonant themes in literature, and Terah Shelton Harris’s novel masterfully captures this complexity. From my own experience, stories that blend narrative with poetic expression often create a multi-layered emotional connection that pure prose sometimes cannot reach. Poetry’s inclusion, as noted in the review, enriches the experience by giving voice to feelings that characters themselves struggle to articulate. Sara’s journey, marked by pain and growth, reminded me of how healing is rarely linear. It is often punctuated by setbacks and moments of reflection, where one questions their capacity to move forward. This aligns with many real-life recovery experiences—sometimes, the metaphorical 'axis tilt' caused by life’s hardships forces us to redefine who we are fundamentally. Just like Uranus spins on its side, survivors often find new ways to navigate a changed internal landscape. Moreover, the dynamic between Sara and Jacob highlights how healing can be collective and relational. Forgiveness and growth are not only individual feats but also intertwined with how others in our lives respond to trauma. I appreciated the critique of the father’s reliance on poetry as a distancing mechanism; it underscores how loved ones may struggle to communicate their pain authentically, often masking vulnerability. This rings true in many family healing journeys where emotional barriers can hinder connection. Engaging with this novel as a blind read, as described by the reviewer, illustrates the value of approaching books with openness to unexpected themes. Sometimes what starts as casual or seasonal reading can reveal profound insights and emotional catharsis. For readers who have endured hardship or anyone interested in human resilience, this story offers both comfort and inspiration. Finally, I found the symbolic metaphor of Uranus’ unique tilt a beautiful literary device. It serves as a powerful reminder that trauma may reposition us off our original course, but it does not prevent us from spinning forward—uncharted, perhaps, but remarkably alive. This metaphor stayed with me, reinforcing the idea that everyone’s healing process is unique yet enduring.
