The Future Sonny?

     Out of all the books I've read, none have had quite the same effect as this one. The tone for one thing, is one that I connect with quite easily. Sonny's way of speaking is as if he's an artist who has something interesting in mind to paint, but without the tools to paint it with. By this I mean that he speaks illiterately when he has quite intelligent subjects to speak of. As I was reading it made me think it's the more pensive kids who would rather listen than talk who go on to create great things like celebrated books and poetry. One very interesting point in the first 50 pages struck me; the fact that Sonny associates people, voices and music with colors and light patterns. He talks about listening in on his mother's phone conversations with his eyes closed, and her voice appearing to him in swirling white patterns. I can connect with this easily and it frustrates me when people don't understand. I especially connected with the excerpt when Sonny tries to explain it to his mother but he says she seemed to look and listen somewhere else. I have had certain abstract experiences and associations with events that ressonated in a way I know I could never fully explain to anyone else. In some way, I'm happy I could never explain them because that makes them exclusive to only me and my thoughts. However, it would be nice for someone to be able to agree with me. Even if we didn't talk about it, I'd like just the knowledge that someone understands. Then again, it also makes me consider the possibility that maybe everyone has this experience all the time but none of us really know how to explain it to one another so the whole thing goes unrecognized.
     The great thing about this book so far is that it's not trying to hard. It feels good to read it because it's not overwhelming, but at the same time I find myself reading in between the lines. The smallest ideas that Sonny presents as passing thoughts make me think harder than he seems to have intended. I do double-takes very often. One passage in particular that I loved reads: "I didn't know about rifles except what anyone would know. I couldn't imagine what anyone had so many for. So many I couldn't look at them because they looked back too." This made me smile and read it aloud to my dad. It's wonderful because these beautiful passages are burried in what seems like ordinary everyday speech about ordinary things. Sonny surprises me in the way he consumes himself in his thoughts.
     Sonny won't end up like his sister. It seems to me that she and Sonny are like fire and ice, outward and inward. Sonny listens and broods while she explodes and screams. He's one of those who soaks up information and emotions like a sponge and then lets it out in one intense climactic revelation, although this has yet to happen. Of course I don't know what's going to happen to him in the end, but I know he's going to strive for something better.