I am a synesthete. Different fibers, texture, and touch, as well as music, have color for me. My ability has varied at different points in my life, but I know that Mozart is filled with blues and yellows of Van Gogh's Starry Night, my mother's touch when I was had chicken pox was like milk chocolate, and a caress can be the color of midnight blue velvet against the nap. As my hearing has diminished, and my bilateral tinnitus has increased, my color perceptions aren't as clear, but I still treasure the honey gold hue of my son's laugh when he was a child. To read this story , about a girl with synesthesia learning to understand how her world is colored, was wonderful.
Mia has a different type of synesthesia than I do. Her world is more vibrant as numbers and words take on color, texture, and hue. At the same time, she faces issues that confront most of us: the pain of grief, the despair of loss, the confusion of growing up, the recognition of being different.
Handled with sensitivity and compassion, Wendy Mass guides the reader through Mia's world, sharing information, intuition, and understanding.
A lovely story.
Tags: kids-of-most-ages, places-i-have-been, ya-lit