Imaginary Friend by Stephen Chbosky

Cover of "Imaginary Friend," with the title and author Stephen Chbosky's name in large spindly white script against a dark background with a child silouhetted against a tree

Summary [courtesy of Goodreads]: Single mother Kate Reese is on the run. Determined to improve life for her and her son, Christopher, she flees an abusive relationship in the middle of the night with her child. Together, they find themselves drawn to the tight-knit community of Mill Grove, Pennsylvania. It’s as far off the beaten track as they can get. Just one highway in, one highway out. At first, it seems like the perfect place to finally settle down. Then Christopher vanishes. For six long days, no one can find him. Until Christopher emerges from the woods at the edge of town, unharmed but not unchanged. He returns with a voice in his head only he can hear, with a mission only he can complete: Build a treehouse in the woods by Christmas, or his mother and everyone in the town will never be the same again.


Oh sweet lord jesus, WHY did I not listen to all the reviews? WHY did I not pay attention when I heard this was BAD BAD BAD? WHY am I like this? 

In any case, and perhaps surprising no one, I DID NOT like this book. This is a very bad book. It is a ridiculous book, and it is an actively harmful one too. But why not let ‘just finished the book’ past-me give the full review:

Jesus Christ this book is morally fucking bankrupt. From the fatphobia to the ableism to the astounding sexism and trafficking in gender essentialist tropes, to the tacit racism, to the very, VERY overt copaganda…yeesh. And the Christian messaging at its core…it’s like a condensation of the most toxic version of evangelicalism, from its repressive, sex-phobic hysteria to its adoration of a punitive god. NOPE. And that’s not even to mention the fact that much of it, particularly prior to the big series of ‘twists,’ makes NO FUCKING SENSE in retrospect. Not a jot. None.

If you thought Stephen King was problematic and bigoted (which, like, yes, but at least I get a nostalgia dose with my guilt and cringe there), wait til you read this…

But, like, DON’T read this. Do yourself a favor that I failed to do. Practice self-care.

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