DUST

A 16-year-old girl living in a slightly alternate history faces coercive control and a new Dust Bowl.

Back in rural Ohio, Thea was already different—deaf in one ear and homeschooled. But now her father has moved the family to a farm in a dry, dusty Colorado valley, and her so-called unschooling consists mainly of working on the farm, where her father allows no modern clothing, internet access, or library books. But the family needs money, so Thea is allowed to work at the tiny cafe in town, where she secretly begins to connect with the wider community, including Ray, a Deaf boy her age. Through skillful prose, Stine weaves together the threads of Thea’s coming-of-age story: her dawning understanding of ableism, her search for self and community outside her family, and her desire to understand and give back to the world. The narrative builds a creeping sense of dread like a gathering storm, exploring the twin horrors of climate change and abusive control as the dust storms increase in intensity, water dwindles, locusts swarm, and the farm produces nothing but a few potatoes. Thea’s father is a man who’s increasingly radicalized, stockpiling food and guns and tightening his control over his family, but disappointingly, the resolution of his behavior is all too pat, ending this otherwise excellent and intense novel on a flat note. Thea presents white; Ray has brown skin and straight dark hair.

Gripping and emotional.