Bliss

By Lauren Myracle

Lauren Myracle brings her keen understanding of teen dynamics to a hypnotic horror story of twisted friendship.

 

When Bliss’s hippie parents leave the commune and dump her at the home of her aloof grandmother in a tony Atlanta neighborhood, it’s like being set down on an alien planet. The only guide naïve Bliss has to her new environment is what she’s seen on The Andy Griffith Show. But Mayberry is poor preparation for Crestview Academy, an elite school where the tensions of the present and the dark secrets of the past threaten to simmer into violence. Openhearted, naïve Bliss is happy to be friends with anyone. That’s not the way it has ever worked at Crestview, and soon Bliss is at the center of a struggle for power between three girls—two living and one long dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ABRAMS
• Release date: Mar 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781613120194

Lauren Myracle

Lauren Myracle has written many books for tweens and teens, including the bestselling Winnie Years series and the Flower Power series. She lives with her family in Colorado, and she thinks life is the most magical adventure of all. www.laurenmyracle.com

Book preview

mother.

randmother won’t tolerate occultism, even of the nose-twitching sort made so adorable by Samantha Stevens, so I’m not allowed to watch Bewitched. Jeannie from I Dream of Jeannie is indecent in her filmy pants and sparkly halter, so I’m not allowed to watch that, either. Mod Squad? Miniskirts. Scandalous. Those ultramodern miniskirt girls purse Grandmother’s lips up almost as much as boys with long hair and girls who neither shave nor wear appropriate undergarments. Almost, but not quite, because when it comes to the destruction of traditional values, hippies trump witches and mod girls, hands down.

Hippies use marijuana.

Hippies don’t bathe.

Hippies cohabitate in flimsy tents and eat goat cheese. The girls don’t wear bras, and their unfettered breasts bounce shamelessly beneath tank tops reading MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR. They have sexual relations indiscriminately, and they burden their offspring with ridiculous names. And—the most dire offense of all—they deposit said offspring in the imposing Southern mansions of their even more imposing Southern parents, shirking the responsibility of raising their children themselves.

To clarify: I’m the offspring. My name is Bliss. Mom and Dad fled to Canada to avoid supporting President Nixon’s version of American patriotism, and they abandoned me here, in Atlanta, with a well-coiffed grandmother I barely know. My grandfather is dead.

This is a situation neither Grandmother nor I would have chosen, but Grandmother is nothing if not morally upright, which made it impossible for her to turn me away. She’s also uptight, and it seems that often the two go together. Mom hugged me hard after dropping me off, whispering that I should stay true to myself no matter what anyone said. By anyone, I assume she meant Grandmother, whose sole remark to Mom was, Well, Genevieve, I didn’t think you could fall any further. Once again, you’ve proven me wrong. Then she turned to me, her mouth pruning into a frown. Pigeon Carrier’s Disease?! Dr. Montgomery will be aghast.

The penicillin made my pee stink, but it got rid of the fever and most of the scaliness. Even more remarkable, I’m no longer coughing. My clean breaths fill me with joy and guilt in equal measure.

Something else I feel guilty about: I like my daily hot showers, and I like Grandmother’s expensive toiletries. The soap from the commune never lathered. It was lumpish and gray, and it itched my scalp. Grandmother has lavender shampoo to match her lavender soap. My hair is as soft as angels’ wings.

I like TV too. Grandmother’s TV is a brand-new Zenith Giant-Screen, with a Space Command 600 Remote Control. I can change channels from the sofa. Truly! I stretch out on the chintz cushions—no feet on the coffee table, please—and with a push of my thumb, The Andy Griffith Show flickers into resolution. Andy Griffith is one of the few shows Grandmother tolerates, and of the others on her approved list—My Three Sons, Green Acres, Petticoat Junction—it’s my clear-and-away favorite. Plus, it’s in reruns already, so I can watch it every day.

I love Sheriff Taylor in his crisp uniform, and sometimes (how embarrassing) I think about him as I fall asleep in my four-poster bed with freshly laundered sheets and down pillow. He’s got a kind smile, he’s a great dad to Opie, and he teases gray-bunned Aunt Bee, but never in a mean-spirited way. Plus, he’s nice to Barney, the bumbling deputy sheriff who causes more problems than he solves.

If I were still on the commune, I wouldn’t be watching Andy Griffith. I’d be digging a new latrine or helping Flying V pick herbs or looking after Daisy and Clementine, the twins. We weren’t lazy on the commune, despite what Grandmother thinks. I’m lazy here. Grandmother’s maid, a black woman named Rosie who’s at least as old as Grandmother, whispers past me, picking up crumbs before I realize I’ve dropped them. She folds my underwear. She collects the hairballs from the shower drain and makes them disappear. Quite a lot of my hair seems to be falling out, which I attribute to my new regimen of washing, conditioning, and brushing.

If Flying V could see me, she’d shake her head. Letting an old auntie wait on you? That ain’t the Bliss I know.

Well, she’s right. I feel newly born, dropped like a baby into this slippery world of giant-screen TVs and lavender soap and feather pillows. Last week Grandmother hosted a sip and see to introduce me to her friends from the Ladies Auxiliary, and because I was nervous, I crossed and recrossed my legs in the school-issued knee-length cotton skirt Grandmother had given me to replace my gypsy skirt with the bells. Grandmother glared, and I didn’t know why. After everyone left, she informed me that young ladies are to cross their legs at the ankles only. To do otherwise suggests wantonness.

I also made the mistake of mentioning Daisy and Clementine during the sip and see. Daisy and Clementine will have a new baby brother or sister next month, not that I’ll be there to meet him or her. But everyone likes babies, so when one of the ladies showed off a bonnet she was knitting for her soon-to-be-born granddaughter, I beamed and said, Oh, groovy! My friend Flying V—well, really, it’s Virginia—she’s pregnant too.

Everyone fell silent, and my smile faltered. Grandmother later told me that you’re not supposed to say pregnant; you’re supposed to say expecting or in the family way. Um, okay. I don’t get it . . . but okay.

There are so many things I don’t get, that I’m afraid even daily doses of Andy Griffith won’t bring me up to speed. School starts in a week, and I’m petrified. Grandmother has enrolled me in Crestview Academy, the most prestigious private school in the South. It used to be a convent, and when Grandmother showed me the brochure, I imagined nuns in black habits patrolling the vast grounds. The imposing buildings are constructed from stone; the lawns are green and dotted with stone benches. It’s quite stately looking, which, despite my apprehension, appeals to my imagination. There’s not a latrine in sight.

The school shifted from Catholicism when it lost the nuns, but Grandmother assures me that Crestview students follow a Christian code of conduct. They also follow a Christian code of attire—though when I said, Neat-o! Tunics and sandals! Grandmother didn’t crack a smile. Crestview boys, I gathered from the brochure, wear khakis and collared shirts. Girls can wear either a blue or gray skirt, a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and brown penny loafers. Grandmother bought me two skirts in each color, three blouses, and a blue cardigan for chilly weather. Also, five pairs of white knee-highs, five pairs of nude hose, and the penny loafers.

I’ll be a freshman, Grandmother informed me, and I could sense her amazement that I tested into my appropriate age-based grade level despite the fact that I’ve never been formally schooled.

Well . . . I did read on the commune, I told her. Quite a lot, actually.

How? Grandmother asked.

What do you mean, how? I said. I didn’t want to be rude, but surely she didn’t want a description of how I moved my eyes from line to line.

She made an impatient sound. The books, where did you get the books? You were squatting like animals in the wild.

I felt a surge of shame. The bookmobile came every week, I said as levelly as I could. It was government funded. I was never an animal squatting in the wild, but she had just made me feel like one.

So beginning next week, I’ll be in a homeroom with twelve other fourteen-year-olds. There are three other ninth-grade homerooms in addition to mine, which means fifty-two freshmen, give or take. Grandmother informed me that unlike myself, they all attended a freshman orientation last spring.

They will know all about the school, while you will know nothing, she said. Her tone implied that she held me personally accountable for my ignorance. You’ll be a babe in the woods.

I refrained from pointing out the irony of her remark.

There are approximately fifty sophomores, fifty juniors, and fifty seniors at Crestview as well, bringing the total number of students to around two hundred.

That’s a lot of teenagers.

I haven’t had a lot of experience with teenagers.

Last year a sixteen-year-old guy lived on the commune for about a month, but his parents decided to follow the Dead, and that was that. Daisy and Clementine shared a tent with me, but they’re four-and-a-half. I did meet other kids at festivals and concerts—I’m not a total freak—and yes, I’ve even kissed a boy. Once. His name was Peter, and he had B.O. Then again, I probably did too.

So while I’m terrified of starting at Crestview next week, I’m also twisty-turvy, stomach-flopping excited. Going to Crestview equals being around people my own age, and being around people my own age equals (maybe? hopefully?) making friends.

Sheriff Taylor has Barney. Aunt Bee has Clara. Opie has Johnny Paul Jason, which is an awfully big name for an awfully small boy. But even Opie has a best friend.

I would like a best friend. I’d like that very much.

On the day I left the commune, Flying V pulled me to the edge of the fire pit. She’d had one of her visions, and her expression was dogged.

You know I ain’t happy ‘bout you leaving, she said, but ain’t nothing either one of us can do about it.

Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"‘Course you will. It ain’t you I’m worried about."

You’re not? Perversely, I now wanted her to be worried about me. Why wasn’t she worried about me?

Bliss, baby, you got a light inside you as bright as they come, Flying V said. "You don’t always have the best of sense, but you do got light. It’ll burn within you even in the darkest of times."

I rolled my eyes. I was being shipped off to the land of indoor plumbing, not the ninth circle of hell.

But you listen to Flying V now, she said. She clasped my hands, lacing her brown fingers through my much paler ones. There’s change coming your way like you ain’t never imagined. New sights, new smells—new people, too. Two people in particular. She squeezed. That’s what I seen.

Yeah?

Two girls, just your age. Your lives are intertwined.

My lips went loose, twitching into a smile I couldn’t control. Here Flying V was, acting all agitated, but this was fine news. Not just one dear friend in my future, but two?

Flying V frowned, reading something in my face she didn’t like. Hold on, baby. I can tell you’re spinning plans, imagining the three of y’all whispering and giggling and telling secrets. But this ain’t no magic friendship spell I seen.

I know! I protested. She made it sound so childish: a magic friendship spell. I knew friendship had to be nurtured. I knew it wouldn’t happen magically.

There’s trouble in that mix, and girls your age . . . She shook her head. "They can be downright cruel. Downright bloodthirsty, baby. I think it’s best you stay clear."

"And, what? Be alone? I said. I think I can handle a few spats and hurt feelings, V. I am a girl myself."

She snorted. Yeah, uh-huh. A girl who can’t tell a snowberry from a nightshade berry.

I pulled my hands free and turned away. I appreciated Flying V’s mothering, especially since my flesh-and-blood mother did so little of it, but even I wasn’t such a dumb pudding that I couldn’t hold my own with girls my age. And of course I could tell the difference between a snowberry and a nightshade berry. Snowberries are white; nightshade berries are bright red. Snowberries are harmless; nightshade berries are deadly.

Maybe I’ve never had a lot of friends, I admitted, my voice breaking. But I haven’t exactly had a lot of opportunities, either. I swallowed. "I think—I mean, I hope—that I’d be a really good friend."

Oh, baby, Flying V said. She took me by my shoulders and turned me back toward her. "You got me all wrong. Anybody would be blessed to call you a friend. Absolutely blessed. Her eyes were the deepest brown, full of concern. I want you to be careful, that’s all."

I still didn’t get what I was supposed to be careful of, but I was ready for the conversation to be over.

I will, I said, hearing the petulance in my voice.

Flying V sighed, and I sensed she wished she’d kept her vision to herself. Right then, I wished she had too. But now I’m glad she didn’t. An unseen world shimmers beneath our seen world, and for Flying V to share a glimpse of it . . . well, I like it when the universe reminds us how intricate our world is.

I miss Mom and Dad, but their absence is nothing new. Even when we lived on the commune, they were always hitching to San Fran or Seattle or wherever. Sometimes they let me tag along, but more often they didn’t.

As for Grandmother, yes, she’s one huge frown. But I’m her granddaughter. She’ll come around.

Occasionally, I have visions too. Mine don’t come as frequently at Flying V’s, nor, I suspect, do they pulse with the same degree of clarity. Flying V was helping me with that. She said I had the gift—as, indeed, most people do, though they often don’t realize it—but that I needed guidance in order to interpret what my gift revealed. Our training sessions were cut off, of course, but I’m not too terribly worried. I think I’m clear-sighted enough to divine the general sense of my visions, even if I miss the more subtle particulars.

At any rate, on my first night in Atlanta I had a strange and telling dream. In it, I walked along a footpath on Crestview’s sprawling campus. It was the footpath pictured in the brochure, only more heavily wooded, with dappled shadows making spots of light and dark. The sweet tang of lemons inexplicably filled the air. I felt as if I were exactly where I was supposed to be.

But as I ambled along, the shadows shifted and became mouths, hungering for me. I tried to run, but couldn’t. The lemony scent grew cloying and veiled me in a misty shroud.

Then, out of nowhere, swooped a dove. I knew it was a dove and not an odious pigeon because it was snow-white, and because it was unafflicted with parasites. Also, its coo was soft and beguiling, nothing like the ugly chup-chup of a pigeon. The dove alit on my shoulder, its wings a whisper on my cheek. The mist around me cleared.

My sight may not be as clear as Flying V’s, yet I’m not completely unversed in life’s mysteries. Yes, starting school will be hard, possibly even scary. But my dream dove was a sign, just as solid and real as Grandmother’s bone china tea set. Doves are incapable of malice toward any creature, and as long as I remember that, as long as I never stoop to spite or meanness, I’ll surely be able to navigate the occasional catfight between friends.

After all, fourteen-year-old girls are just fourteen-year-old girls. They may bicker, they may hold silly grudges, but they certainly don’t thirst for blood.

randmother had hoped to take me shopping today. She wanted to buy me some play clothes (does she think I’m five?), but instead she retired to her bedroom with a migraine. Something awful happened—not here in Atlanta, but in California—and Grandmother deems it one more horror to blame on the lawless, shiftless hippies.

Grandmother has Rosie burn the newspaper before I can read the article, but I glimpse the headline: FIVE SLAIN IN BLOODY CULT-STYLE MURDER. It’s terrible that five people were murdered—terrible!—but I don’t understand why Grandmother would read about such a brutal crime and automatically think hippies. Hippies aren’t about hate. Hippies are about love. Does she think that just because hippies reject society, they’re going to fan out and slay those who don’t?

Her daughter—my mother—is one of those shiftless hippies. Mom taught me to be kind to spiders, and she insisted the mice had just as much right to our food as we did. When Layla slashed her chest on a piece of exposed wire, Mom used a shirt to bind her up. My shirt, actually. The one with the embroidered peace sign.

Dad called Layla a rat with wings and said Mom should let nature take its course. Mom refused to talk to him for two days, and he had to coax her from her sulk with a Hershey’s bar he’d stashed in the bottom of his rucksack.

Where did you get this? she demanded, scowling as if he’d been holding out on her.

Remember that roofing job I did? he said. She paid me in chocolate, and I saved it for my lady. He broke off a bite of candy and placed it in her mouth. She tried to stay grouchy, but ended up closing her eyes and making an mmmm of pleasure.

Layla’s gash eventually healed, and I reclaimed my shirt from the filthy coop. I shouldn’t have bothered. The bloodstains never came out.

wo more people were murdered in California last night. This time I get to the paper before Grandmother, and I learn that the victims—Leno and Rosemary LaBianca—were tied up and stabbed to death in their own house. The article provides details about the other slayings as well. I find out that the people killed the night before were having a dinner party at the house of Roman Polanski, who’s apparently a pretty well-known movie director. Only Mr. Polanski wasn’t there; it was just his wife and four friends. His wife’s name was Sharon Tate. She was eight-and-a-half months pregnant.

When I hear Grandmother coming downstairs, I quickly refold the paper and place it on the kitchen table. She reads it and goes pale.

Have mercy, she says faintly. What is this world coming to?

What happened? I ask, since supposedly I don’t know.

She gives a bare-bones account of the crime, and I give her a cup of tea. She takes a shaky sip and tells me we must install a gate at the end of the driveway.

Maybe we should get a dog, I say. Maybe a German shepherd. A German shepherd probably isn’t needed to protect us from a killer in California, but I’ve always wanted a pet I could actually play with. And German shepherds just sound so loyal.

Those deviants, they stabbed that poor woman forty-one times, Grandmother says. She puts down her cup. Oh, Bliss, how could people be so heartless?

Without thinking, I rise and embrace her. She stiffens, and I feel how frail she is beneath her blouse. I am young and strong, and the last of the scaly patches on my skin have flaked off, thanks to daily scrubbings with my all-natural loofah.

Those murderers are far, far away, I tell her. We’re safe here.

Yes, of course, Grandmother says. She pulls away. Thank you, Bliss. You’re a good girl.

Mom’s a good girl too, I say without thinking. Maybe I’m afraid that by deviant, Grandmother once again means long-haired hippie freak?

"I mean, she’s a good person, I go on. She’s not a girl, she’s a grown-up, obviously . . . but—"

Oh, Bliss, Grandmother

Reviews for Bliss

[tiamatq_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

So if you take Charles Manson, The Andy Griffith Show, the Civil Rights Movement, hippies, and a ghost story, mix it all up and throw it into a fancy-pants school in Atlanta, you'll have "Bliss." 14-year-old Bliss is the title character, and her parents have uprooted her from their northern California commune and dropped her on her grandmother's doorstep on their way to Canada. She's nervous about fitting in and making friends, but not to the point of silencing her opinions, particul...more So if you take Charles Manson, The Andy Griffith Show, the Civil Rights Movement, hippies, and a ghost story, mix it all up and throw it into a fancy-pants school in Atlanta, you'll have "Bliss." 14-year-old Bliss is the title character, and her parents have uprooted her from their northern California commune and dropped her on her grandmother's doorstep on their way to Canada. She's nervous about fitting in and making friends, but not to the point of silencing her opinions, particularly about how Lawrence, the token black student at her high school, is treated publicly and privately. It doesn't help matters that Bliss also hears a voice, a blood voice, coming from the hall where a girl supposedly killed herself years earlier.This was a creepy book, though not so much for the ghost story. Bliss makes friends quickly, but is warned away from Sandy, the strange girl you see in every school. She's the one who smells a little funny, says all the wrong things, licks things spilled on the cafeteria tables, and just makes you feel off. But Bliss sees that Sandy has feelings and secrets, and she can't help but feel sorry for her. Bliss also admires (and is occasionally jealous of) Sarah Lynn Lancaster, the most popular girl in the freshman class. So this sounds like it could be a typical high school girl friendship story, where the outsiders overcome the cruel popular girl, right? Well, this book challenges the stereotypes we've gotten so used to... sometimes there's a good reason to stay away from that strange girl.I liked this book and I liked Bliss. She's strong, but she wants to find her place in this new life. She's naive and tough and funny and kind. The other girls are nicely fleshed out, though none more so than Sandy. I did think that the book tried to cover a bit too much. The ghost story feels somewhat rushed at the end, though I wouldn't say that it's predictable. There are many elements that work in the background, particularly the Manson murders and the inherent racism at the high school, and I would've liked to have seen some focus on them on occasion.If you like the feeling of your skin crawling, then you'll get a kick out of this book. Witch's teat... that's all I can say.

[celeena_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Simply AMAZING book. If you don't enjoy open/disappointing endings though, don't really bother with the end. The book left off very sad and disappointing, but also very nicely. It was one of those books where the ending wasn't completely and totally predictable and everyone and everything got their sublime happiness with how everything turns out. I felt that it lacked a definite 'resolution' and I love that. good read.

[missmath144 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

If you like creepy, this is your book. It is well crafted and I found myself engrossed in it for hours, but the closer I got to the end, the creepier it got. It was not for me. I prefer going to bed at night without disturbing images roaming freely in my thoughts. However, if you like horror movies, Stephen King, teen angst and vampires, then you'll probably enjoy Bliss.

[fr3dt3ch_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I don't think the story idea really took shape in this book. The concept has merit, but I found it lacking in depth, particularly where the main plot is concerned. I think it's possible that the larger storyline, of the new girl at school, a fish out of water trying to make friends, would have made for a competent story in itself. The supernatural aspect seemed almost a separate add-in.

[callmecayce · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I'm not entirely sure what to make of this book. It's well written and the first person is done extremely well. The quotes between chapters as well as the diary excerpts are both appropriate and chilling in many ways. Which, of course, it's supposed to be because it's a fantasy/horror YA book. The ending is not satisfactory, but I totally understand what Myracle was doing with it and I approve. There are a couple of twists and some connections I didn't make until right before Bliss made them. I thought this was a clever technique to keep us guess, just as Bliss is. Myracle also does a good job dealing with a time period that readers aren't used (late 60s) without hitting us over the head with it. Her story is a mix of coming of age, the little bit of horror that drives the story and being the 'new' girl. It seems a bit rushed at the end, but overall I enjoyed it.

[vindiya · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I picked this up at the library on a whim, the flap sounded interesting but ttyl hadn't left me a good impression on the author. But actually this book was quite good. Bliss is such an intriguing character and a great mix of naive and knowledgable with a core of inner strength that you can see growing within her throughout the book.There were a lot of "duh how could you not see that?" moments throughout and a little predictable, but I liked how Lauren Myracle was actually telling three stories at once. It made up for predictablity. And while it was predictable it was a different take on the typical new girl at school story. And the fact that the story is set in 1969 puts just enough of a historical twist to keep the pages turning with an almost frenzy. Its actually quite the thriller, if you've ever been dubious about Lauren Myracle I suggest giving this book a try.

[scout01-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I bought this and I thought it would take me awhile to read but It is such a page turner you just keep reading it.

[runa_17 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Bliss is a new kind of book, something quite unlike anything else Lauren Myracle has written, lacking greatly in the fluffy-bunnies department. She pulls it off spectacularly, with great narration, fresh and complicated new characters, and plenty of those lovely plot twists we love so very much! Though I didn't realize at first, this book is set in the past, but the girls seem so modern in their speech and actions, everything blends in wonderfully. I loved how this was your typical YA story...plus plenty of supernatural elements, plus social commentary. The blurring of genre lines was done seamlessly and perfectly. While I had some issues with the ending and I really think the better ending would have been the less tragic one, I can see why Myracle did decide to write it as she did. I highly recommend this book--many people somehow think "supernatural? Pshh, must be a lame Twilight rip-off!" but I'm telling you, this bone-chilling novel has things much much scarier than a family of vegetarian vampires, and it's a truly original book well worth your time.Rating: 5/5

[heathersblue · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I truly enjoyed this book. It is a mix betweeen a coming of age novel and John Saul that I think teen will really enjoy. Bliss' outlook towards her new school and friends is compelling as she tries to piece together a new way of existing in the world. Off the commune, things look and smell different but she is often able to influence others in her compelling desire to remain kind and understanding towards others. The ghost story caught my attention and the blood voice really creeped me out. The ending, however, was a serious let down...great story, great build up, then BAM it's over in ten pages wirh a paragragh's worth of resolution.A very good read.

[amwsmith-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Like other reviewers have written, this is an interesting story with entirely too much going on. Fell apart really hard at the end, but all of the set-up was pretty good.

[abbylibrarian_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Bliss, daughter of hippies, is dropped off to live with her grandmother in Atlanta when her parents go draft-dodging to Canada in 1969. As she reads about the Manson murders in the newspaper, Bliss starts her first real school at Crestview and looks forward to having teachers and friends. But when she steps onto the campus, she begins to hear the voice of a girl who died there... and so the horrors begin... This book is seriously creepy and I couldn't put it down. Short chapters separated by quotes make it fast reading. The design of the book is nearly as freaky as the story - many pages appear to be dripping with blood and the font used for the ghost voice is the scariest font I've ever seen. I had no idea I could actually be scared by a font. :)

[rfewell_3 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Got an advanced copy of this book. Bliss Inthemorningdew, she has hippie parents, is dropped off in Atlanta to stay with her wealthy, upper-class grandmother because her parents are moving to Canada, so her father can avoid going to Vietnam. When Bliss begins attending a private school, she encounters all kinds of strange new characters; the perfect girl, the catty group of friends, the outcast, the only black guy, and a strange voice that delivers creepy messages to her... Interspersed in between chapters, Andy Griffith quotes, lyrics from songs, and Charles Manson trial notes pepper the plot. I just never seemed to find out as much as I wanted to know about the characters. Also, I think a teenager reading this would get bogged down with all of the 1960s references -- some of the stuff was a little dated for me, and I loved watching Andy Griffith show on reruns when I was a kid. There was just too much happening, racism, dead kid sending messages, Charles Manson, Andy Griffith, hippies, Atlanta segregation, high school girl drama, etc. Myracle tries to do too much with this book.

[kristysp · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Bliss, the prequel to Rhymes with Witches, is a truly creepy, yet thoroughly entertaining read. I picked it up late Sunday night and have basically been inhaling it every spare second since then. Bliss is the name of our heroine, a freshman in high school dropped off in Atlanta, GA, to live with her prim grandmother in 1969. Having lived the first 14 odd years of her life with her hippie parents on a commune, Bliss has a lot to learn about the social life of her peers. Determined to stay true to the "love and acceptance" ethos she learned from her parents, Bliss sets out to be nice to everyone--including the school outcast, Sandy Lurlene Lear. (aka Lurl the Pearl from "Rhymes with Witches"). As their friendship progresses, Bliss finds herself increasingly uncomfortable with Sandy's cruel view of the world, and her nasty attitude toward pretty much everyone else. Bliss grows more and more frightened and Sandy grows more and more disgusting and terrifying. Enhancing the creepiness, the Manson family murders have just come to light, and the trials unfold in the background of Bliss's own drama.
A fun read, all in all, though ultimately dark and depressing. I found it surpassed Rhymes with Witches, which was a lot fluffier then Bliss. The contrast is similar to the contrast of early Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes to the later ones.

[sullywriter_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Really, really creepy.

[iluvvideo · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A quick read, this supernatural thriller never really caught my complete interest. Written by Lauren Myracle, author of several other YA novels, this story seemed leaving something to be desired in character development as well as plot. I enjoyed the read but left feeling...Huh?...what happened to? etc. Young Bliss, fresh off the commune, goes to live with her grandmother in Atlanta, when her parents decide to avoid the draft during the Vietnam War. Feeling totally out of her element, she tries to strike up friendships among the students at exclusive Crestview Academy. Snubbed by those assigned to show her around, she finds Sandy,who after helping a fellow student who fell down the stairs, seems like the kind of person she'd want for a friend.Set in the late 1960's using both the Charles Manson killing and subsequent trial AND the Andy Griffith Show (Mayberry?) as touchstones throughout was interesting, not to mention the mysterious diary entries that help keep you guessing. Mysterious voices, darkened hallways, relics of a prior gruesome accident and other similar plot twists lead the reader to a climax that I did find surprising, but the journey felt incomplete. The many parts all fit together quite neatly but left me with many unanswered questions. Not bad overall, but I'd definitely recommend it to younger teens with an interest in horror.

[amieg_7 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This book started off great, grabbed my attention and kept me up late reading it, but then it let me down at the end. Very anti-climatic ending. I guess I was hoping for more.

[avhacker · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

this book was very good a quick read but dark with unsupected turns

[oapostrophe · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Really creepy and scary YA read set at a private boarding school where something happened to a young girl long ago. Bliss finds herself caught up in the occult goings on, and like I said, it's creepy and scary if you like that sort of thing.

[68papyrus · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Bliss is A-List old school horror,think Stephen King's Carrie. This novel opens with hippie love child, Bliss Inthemorningdew, contemplating the upcoming school year. Having previously lived a bohemian lifestyle transferring to an exclusive southern prep school is a bit overwhelming. Bliss is sweet but naive and sees the best in everyone, even those that don't deserve the benefit of the doubt. When Bliss meets Sandy her classmates worn her to steer clear but the two become friends. It soon becomes clear to Bliss that Sandy is unstable but she isn't sure how to safely sever ties. This book has a high creep factor and kept me reading late into the night to see what would happen next. Overall, a great book although the ending was a bit lackluster. Highly recommended to fans of psychological thrillers. 4 stars!

[samripley · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I’m not usually a horror reader and Bliss wasn’t too scary; creepy and a little gross, but definitely not frightening. It was 444 pages, but I didn’t feel that it dragged on at all; in fact, I was dreading the conclusion because Bliss was finally having a normal life.The main character was very likable. Usually, I feel a little weird reading about people more than two years younger than me, and I know that 14 isn’t so far away, but I just feel like I can’t relate to their mindset, you know? With Bliss, that wasn’t the case. She felt very mature and I think that was appropriate, because her parents were made out to seem immature; especially since they abandoned her with her grandmother.Everyone seems to have a problem with the ending. It wasn’t happy, so I guess that’s understandable. I, however, really liked the ending. It seemed realistic to me, if you can say that about a horror novel like this one.Another thing I really liked was the layout of the book. The chapters were very short, which made the 444 pages go by very quickly, and there were quotes from popular media of the time, since it was set in 1969, and diary entries from a mysterious S.L.L. The book was also set about the backdrop of the Manson murders, which I thought was very appropriate. A lot of Charles Manson’s crazy quotes reflected the antagonists thoughts.Overall, I really enjoyed Bliss. It was one of those books that I felt very satisfied with when it was finished. However, there wasn’t enough ‘oomph’ for me. There was something lacking; maybe the horror part wasn’t developed enough. I’m not sure. But I would definitely recommend this to any YA horror fans.

[titania86_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Bliss in the Morning Dew goes from living in a commune with her hippie parents to living in regular society with her uptight grandmother in the late 1960's. She doesn't know anything about typical society or who to trust in it. She meets Sarah Lynn, the aloof popular girl that everyone falls all over themselves for, and Sandy, a kind hearted outcast. Which one experiments on cats and is obsessed with the occult? Who should she trust? In addition to her social problems, the ghost of a girl who committed suicide keeps trying to lure her to a creepy room at her school.The plot of the story is framed by quotes from the Manson murder trials and the Andy Griffith show. This may initially sound odd, but the quotes really capture the mood or theme of the chapter to follow. The juxtaposition of sociopathic murderers and the idealized society is very effective. The Manson murder trial quotes represent the mentality of the mysterious villain in the book. It's disturbing that people in reality can commit such atrocities and have the attitude that the Manson family did. On the other hand, the Andy Griffith quotes reveal Bliss's only reference for normal society and what to strive for.I really liked the view of society that was used. Even though this is a young adult book, the racism of the time isn't sugar coated at all. I was genuinely shocked when young girls started spewing racial slurs and stereotypes like it was acceptable. Bliss has the same reaction because she hasn't been a part of “normal” society. There is an immediate kinship felt with Bliss.Overall, the book was compelling. The creepy journal entries with the plot and the different quotes made a very interesting form. This book is a good introduction in to the horror genre. It isn't too scary or intense, but still holds one's attention. The main characters were multi-dimensional and believable, while some of the minor ones didn't evolve during the story at all. My big problem with the book was that I was incredibly unsatisfied with the ending.

[juniperjungle · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I found this book a little difficult to get into, but once I had got to grips with it I found it a fairly easy read. Set in the late 1960s the book touches on lots of issues including racism, attitudes towards hippies, and the Vietnam war. All of this is in the backdrop to a story of teenage school girls and occultism. If that sounds like a lot to fit into one book, well it is. The main plotline, with Bliss starting at a posh school for her first experience of formal teaching is really interesting, her experiences of the other pupils’ snobbery and predjudice would have made for an excellent read in itself. The occult storyline that is woven in is interesting but sadly I felt that it ran out of steam in its conclusion. I really liked what the author was trying to do, for me it just fell a little short.

The characters in Bliss were all well created and interesting. I really liked Bliss herself and could have happily read much more about her. I also found the character of Sandy intriguing though thoroughly dislikeable – I’m sure this was the intention.

Between chapters the author uses extracts from an anonymous character’s diary, quotes from the Andy Griffith Show and sections from reports of the Manson family trial. These are all used well and build a great atmosphere.

I definitely enjoyed reading this book but I felt the ending let it down a little. It certainly won’t put me off reading other books by this author.

[readingthruthenight · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Short of ItSometimes school pariahs should be avoided.The Long of ItBecause her parents have taken refuge in Canada due to political reasons, Bliss moves in her wealthy grandma and goes to a private prestigious school. Life is definitely different from the commune she spent most of her life living on, so Bliss is shocked when she hears about segregation still going on and the influence of the KKK. Bliss gets accepted pretty readily with a new group at school but risks it all when she befriends the school’s loser, Sandy. Sandy is not like the other girls in the school. She’s smart and cares about what is going on in the community. Bliss and Sandy spend hours talking about the Mason murders, and the mysterious death of a girl decades earlier at school. Unsuspectingly, Bliss doesn’t realize that Sandy might have been the school pariah for a reason. The Thoughts about ItHoly ba’joly folks. Bliss was TOTALLY suspenseful and surprising and I DEVOURED it all in one sitting because I just COULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT WAS COMING NEXT. And really, how did I miss the bloody name on the cover? There are ghosts and there are ghostly stories and dead people and half dead people. Oh and people who CONTACT THE DEAD.Plus, Myracle includes historical events in the characters’ daily lives perfectly. “Oh yeah, that Mansn family, crazy shizat huh? I wonder if he’ll get convicted…” and “Oh my family’s not involved in the KKK but you know, so-and-so’s is…” That kinda tuff. And also, let me just tell you that I’m over the top impressed with Myracle as a writer. Man does she just cover it all or what? First, my students ADORE her TTYL series. I’ve never read them, but my kids will vouch. Then she writes realistic fiction, horror, what’s next? I don’t think I’ve actually gushed about a writer since my initial love affair with John Green and David Leviathan.

[59square · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was a seriously creepy book by an author who I didn’t know had it in her. Bliss has been raised on a commune, but when her parents decide to dodge the draft, they leave her with her grandmother in Atlanta. When she gets there, she begins to see that things aren’t all what they seem, and there is a mysterious story about a girl who killed herself at the school. There are some unresolved questions at the end of the book, some of which add to the horror of the novel. It is definitely a suspense novel – chapters told through Bliss’ voice are interspersed with notes from someone’s journal, and Myracle purposefully puts out some red herrings to confuse readers. There is violence here, including a young student whose father is in the KKK, but she loves a black teen, cruelty to animals, blood needed for sacrifice. Definitely creepy, and it combines Bliss’ story with information about that historical time period, including the Manson trials. This is a long book, and it did take me a while to get into it and figure out where it was going. Not as gory as some horror stories nowadays, but it doesn’t need all the gore to tell a suspenseful story.

[ekanderson_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Fourteen-year-old Bliss grew up on a hippie commune, but in 1969, her parents flee for Canada to avoid Nixon's politics, leaving Bliss with her wealthy, up-tight grandmother in a recently-integrated Atlanta, Georgia. On the commune, Bliss' closest friend was Flying V, a black woman who gave Bliss advice and taught her about "the gift" and ESP. Now Bliss is baffled by the idea of having a "negra" woman as a housekeeper, let alone the fact that there is only one black boy at her new prep school. Before she left the commune, Flying V warned her of a vision she had of two girls coming into her life, and that these two girls might not be such a good thing. Bliss does her best to ignore the creepy feelings she gets around a certain part of campus, a "blood voice" that speaks in her head, and the sinking feeling she has that maybe this is what V warned her about. But when one of her new friends starts acting a little crazy, sympathizing with the Manson family and romanticizing a rumor about a girl who killed herself long ago on campus, Bliss knows she's in over her head, and she has no idea how to get out.Myracle's latest is backlit by the Manson Family murders, and the Tate-LaBianca trial, as well as the honesty of the racism of the era. The novel is well-voiced, mostly told by the protagonist, but also including snippets from a social deviant's diary as she delves further into witchcraft and into madness. At first it seems that Myracle has bitten off more than she can chew - is this a novel about a hippie girl acclimating to the culture of Atlanta's wealthy? Is this a social commentary on the Manson family and integration? Or is this an occult mystery in which these other topics simply play a role? Happily, all of these elements are woven together, and tightly, leaving no unpleasant leaf unturned. While at times the design of the book gets in the way (the diary entries are written in cursive on blood-speckled pages, and the "blood voice" is set in a creepy type), it mostly sets a fast pace, spliced together with quotes from 60's pop culture & politics. Ultimately, this is a smart novel, a page-turner in the truest sense, and one that leaves you with a sharp chill in the pit of your stomach.