He ain’t playin’ around, Doc. The Little Brother is the story of brothers Even and Gabe. Separated by divorce, Even chose to live with their father – Gabe stayed with their mother. Even remained . . . fairly even. Gabe? Notsomuch. The main plotline centers around a homemade porno featuring Gabe, a couple of buddies and the girl who was once Even’s first kiss, but . . .
It’s about what happens when you choose to do the right thing – while watching the indefensible attempt to be defended. It’s about what happens to a “slut” who had sex with at least two of the three boys the day before claiming she didn’t want it the next night. It’s about consent and what happens when the person who is supposed to be consenting isn’t in control of her faculties enough to do so. It’s violent and graphic and nauseating and brutal and REAL.
It seems like stories of rape have recently replaced “orange as the new black” – but right when I want to say enough is enough I read something like The Little Brother. Books like this need to continue to be written. It wasn’t cliché. It didn’t sugarcoat something horrifying in an attempt to make it “beautiful” or romantic and sell copies. In fact, there are a whopping 100 ratings on Goodreads for this book so it’s probably not flying off the shelves. But it should be.