The War That Saved My Life

This story has all the elements of a book that I would love. The novel is set in London during World War II, the protagonist is a headstrong young girl and all the main characters make significant, positive changes by the end of the novel. And yet . . . I didn't love this book.
And I'm not entirely sure why.

Perhaps it's because I found the abusive mother entirely unrealistic. I have a hard time believing that anyone could be that cruel and it just seemed too fictional for the story to feel real (historical fiction still needs to be believable, you know?).

Or maybe because I felt like the beautiful triumph of the book - Susan's love toward Ada and Jamie that allowed both of them to overcome their PTSD and myriad other issues - was overshadowed by some weird story about Ada catching a spy near the end. It was totally unnecessary and made Ada's progress and emotional victories seem less important.

And then there was the underlying, never-explicitly-mentioned fact that Susan had been in a lesbian relationship with her partner Becky until she had passed away a few years before (which threw Susan into severe depression) and I anticipated the entire book that the author would talk about it openly which made me very nervous for some reason - maybe because I felt it was too mature a theme for a children's book? Or because I felt like the author had an agenda? Maybe both?

Don't get me wrong; I liked the book. I just re-read over several parts (since I read it months and months ago) and there are so many heart-warming, redeeming moments: Ada making Christmas presents, Susan marching into Jamie's school to tell off the teacher for tying his left hand down, Ada learning to read and write, Stephen White's altruism toward the old colonel, even the Christmas Eve meltdown when Susan holds Ada for hours during her attack. There really are some very lovely parts . . . and yet.

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