SCHIZO - by Kim Firmston
published by Lorimer SideStreets
Click here to order Schizo
Dan is a fairly normal fifteen-year-old -- he likes girls (obviously), hates school (ditto), and he lives to play bass guitar. But at home, things aren't normal at all. His mother is schizophrenic, and uses a system of numbers she's developed to determine if something is good or evil. She plasters the walls with pages of obscure calculations and lists of digits, and obsesses over them long into the night -- and her behaviour is only getting more and more erratic. One day, Dan's numbers turn bad, and she begins to threaten him physically. Dan could just run away, but he's worried about what would happen to the nine-year-old brother he's fought so hard to protect. All Dan wants is a normal life, but how can he keep his family together and keep them safe at the same time?
Awards
Commended - Starred Selection - Best Books for Kids & Teens -- Canadian Children's Book Centre - 2012
Reviews
"Firmston is an incredibly talented writer, blending the teenage experience with the pitfalls of a schizophrenic parent in a short novel with emotional and psychological depth. Highly recommended."
- Keen Readers http://www.keenreaders.org/schizo
"Firmston is one of few authors who writes about schizophrenia from a teen’s point of view. The fear of not knowing is what underlies this story and is what makes this a page-turner. "
- Sherry Rampey VOYA (U.S.) http://www.voya.com/2011/11/28/this-week-in-reviews-november-28-2011/
Rated G - Good, even great at times, generally useful! The home life [of the main characters] is described in all its horrendous detail to make it real for the reader who may not have lived with mental illness.
- Patricia Jermey Resource Links
Kim Firmston has crafted a YA novel that has a simple plot and lots of depth. She brings up many rich and complex themes, such as the tension between home and school life, which makes this book a worthwhile read...viivid and uncompromising. High school teens who like books that have depth and grit will enjoy this book. Highly Recommended.
- Mark Mueller CM: Canadian Review of Materials http://www.umanitoba.ca/outreach/cm/vol18/no21/schizo.html
"I just finished reading Schizo and I really enjoyed reading it - Kim is a good writer and from my experience of teaching adolescents, I know they would love this book. It was an easy read, a page turner and very interesting! She did an excellent job of conveying what living with mental illness would be like. I know that students would really get interested in her book and I could see many of the reluctant readers (they are usually the boys) wanting to read this book. I believe she did an excellent job of conveying the up and down emotions and struggles.....with both of the boys. I did really enjoy reading it. Kim is to be congratulated!"- Pam Ball - a recently retired principal. She taught high school English for 3 years (grades 9,10 and 11) and before that, 17 years in junior high (Art and English).
- Keen Readers http://www.keenreaders.org/schizo
"Firmston is one of few authors who writes about schizophrenia from a teen’s point of view. The fear of not knowing is what underlies this story and is what makes this a page-turner. "
- Sherry Rampey VOYA (U.S.) http://www.voya.com/2011/11/28/this-week-in-reviews-november-28-2011/
Rated G - Good, even great at times, generally useful! The home life [of the main characters] is described in all its horrendous detail to make it real for the reader who may not have lived with mental illness.
- Patricia Jermey Resource Links
Kim Firmston has crafted a YA novel that has a simple plot and lots of depth. She brings up many rich and complex themes, such as the tension between home and school life, which makes this book a worthwhile read...viivid and uncompromising. High school teens who like books that have depth and grit will enjoy this book. Highly Recommended.
- Mark Mueller CM: Canadian Review of Materials http://www.umanitoba.ca/outreach/cm/vol18/no21/schizo.html
"I just finished reading Schizo and I really enjoyed reading it - Kim is a good writer and from my experience of teaching adolescents, I know they would love this book. It was an easy read, a page turner and very interesting! She did an excellent job of conveying what living with mental illness would be like. I know that students would really get interested in her book and I could see many of the reluctant readers (they are usually the boys) wanting to read this book. I believe she did an excellent job of conveying the up and down emotions and struggles.....with both of the boys. I did really enjoy reading it. Kim is to be congratulated!"- Pam Ball - a recently retired principal. She taught high school English for 3 years (grades 9,10 and 11) and before that, 17 years in junior high (Art and English).
An excerpt from Schizo
There’s a crash and bang. A drawer slams shut.
“Damn it!”
Her voice breaks through the apartment door.
“Pencils!”
She was asleep when I left.
“It’s three seven. Three seven. Three seven.”
The chanting crawls into my brain. Settles in my skull. I shiver. Another crash echoes through the door, making my heart pick up speed. Paper rustles. Large sheets torn from an oversized pad, the kind they use for school lectures. My mother is on one of her rampages. Briefly, I consider running, but I then I think of Dustin — and can’t. Crap. I hate coming home with her like this.
“Three seven!” Mom shouts again.
I slide my key into the lock and twist.
“Why can’t it be four six? Everything should be four six.”
Slowly I push open the apartment door, my fingers white on the doorknob. I tiptoe through the darkened living room, careful not to brush against the employee-of-the-month awards that barely hang on the wall or knock over the clock with the three, five, and seven scratched out.
My mother is bent over the dining room table, dirty-blond hair spastic, her pencil working furiously. Huge sheets of paper surround her, numbers on some of them, diagrams on others. She’s directly between me and the hall that leads to our bedrooms. I’m going to get a lecture.
“Daniel! Were you hiding?” She starts laughing. It’s eerie. “Come here. You have to see how
the numbers have changed!”
I approach, hands out, trying to shush her. It’s after two in the morning. My ear strains to hear any movement from Dustin’s room. Nothing so far.
“Look!” Mom points at the long series of numbers running down the nearest paper. They fall in a lopsided rainbow. It looks like how my writing ends up when I don’t use lined paper, all slanting to the lower right. She’s drawn buildings too. The science centre maybe, the Calgary Tower, the Bay downtown — all rough but recognizable. More numbers loop and cascade over the buildings before they are contained in complicated swirling shapes. Some numbers are written again and again, one on top of the other, darkening the paper until there are holes.
“Look Daniel. The sevens are trying to take over. The sevens are tipping the balance.” She leans close, whispers in my ear, her breath hot and damp. “It’s up to us,” she says. “We have to keep the nice numbers, the safe numbers, together. Sixes and fours.” She grabs another paper with a large half-finished sketch of my school, Western Canada High. “See here? Threes and sevens. It’s riddled with them. It’s not safe. Not anymore. You have to stay away. Never go there again.” My mom’s eyes dance, unfocused. Her elegant face is pinched. She grabs my arm, her polished nails biting through my jacket. “It’s for your own safety. Stay home. Stay home!” She’s shrieking by the end.
“Calm down,” I plead. I’m sure she’s going to wake Dustin.
She grabs my shoulders and yanks me hard. The taste of coffee left over from the Night Owl Café turns sour on my tongue.
“No school,” she says a little more quietly.
“But I have a test tomorrow,” I explain.
“This,” she shouts, her hands clawing the paper, “this is a test! We have to stay together! You have to stay safe!”
Our neighbour, Mr. Jones, bangs from the other side of the wall. “Shut up, crazy woman!” he yells.
I grab the sheet of paper from her hand and smooth it on the table. I trace the soft, pencil smudged numbers with my finger. Strange addition and subtraction that wouldn’t make sense even to the most brilliant mathematician. “Oh, yeah. I see. Here, right?” I pretend to understand.
“Damn it!”
Her voice breaks through the apartment door.
“Pencils!”
She was asleep when I left.
“It’s three seven. Three seven. Three seven.”
The chanting crawls into my brain. Settles in my skull. I shiver. Another crash echoes through the door, making my heart pick up speed. Paper rustles. Large sheets torn from an oversized pad, the kind they use for school lectures. My mother is on one of her rampages. Briefly, I consider running, but I then I think of Dustin — and can’t. Crap. I hate coming home with her like this.
“Three seven!” Mom shouts again.
I slide my key into the lock and twist.
“Why can’t it be four six? Everything should be four six.”
Slowly I push open the apartment door, my fingers white on the doorknob. I tiptoe through the darkened living room, careful not to brush against the employee-of-the-month awards that barely hang on the wall or knock over the clock with the three, five, and seven scratched out.
My mother is bent over the dining room table, dirty-blond hair spastic, her pencil working furiously. Huge sheets of paper surround her, numbers on some of them, diagrams on others. She’s directly between me and the hall that leads to our bedrooms. I’m going to get a lecture.
“Daniel! Were you hiding?” She starts laughing. It’s eerie. “Come here. You have to see how
the numbers have changed!”
I approach, hands out, trying to shush her. It’s after two in the morning. My ear strains to hear any movement from Dustin’s room. Nothing so far.
“Look!” Mom points at the long series of numbers running down the nearest paper. They fall in a lopsided rainbow. It looks like how my writing ends up when I don’t use lined paper, all slanting to the lower right. She’s drawn buildings too. The science centre maybe, the Calgary Tower, the Bay downtown — all rough but recognizable. More numbers loop and cascade over the buildings before they are contained in complicated swirling shapes. Some numbers are written again and again, one on top of the other, darkening the paper until there are holes.
“Look Daniel. The sevens are trying to take over. The sevens are tipping the balance.” She leans close, whispers in my ear, her breath hot and damp. “It’s up to us,” she says. “We have to keep the nice numbers, the safe numbers, together. Sixes and fours.” She grabs another paper with a large half-finished sketch of my school, Western Canada High. “See here? Threes and sevens. It’s riddled with them. It’s not safe. Not anymore. You have to stay away. Never go there again.” My mom’s eyes dance, unfocused. Her elegant face is pinched. She grabs my arm, her polished nails biting through my jacket. “It’s for your own safety. Stay home. Stay home!” She’s shrieking by the end.
“Calm down,” I plead. I’m sure she’s going to wake Dustin.
She grabs my shoulders and yanks me hard. The taste of coffee left over from the Night Owl Café turns sour on my tongue.
“No school,” she says a little more quietly.
“But I have a test tomorrow,” I explain.
“This,” she shouts, her hands clawing the paper, “this is a test! We have to stay together! You have to stay safe!”
Our neighbour, Mr. Jones, bangs from the other side of the wall. “Shut up, crazy woman!” he yells.
I grab the sheet of paper from her hand and smooth it on the table. I trace the soft, pencil smudged numbers with my finger. Strange addition and subtraction that wouldn’t make sense even to the most brilliant mathematician. “Oh, yeah. I see. Here, right?” I pretend to understand.