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Crazy Beautiful Hardcover – September 7, 2009

by Lauren Baratz-Logsted (Author)

3.2 63 ratings

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In an explosion of his own making, Lucius blew his arms off. Now he has hooks. He chose hooks because they were cheaper. He chose hooks because he wouldn’t outgrow them so quickly. He chose hooks so that everyone would know he was different, so he would scare even himself.

Then he meets Aurora. The hooks don’t scare her. They don’t keep her away. In fact, they don’t make any difference at all to her.

But to Lucius, they mean everything. They remind him of the beast he is inside. Perhaps Aurora is his Beauty, destined to set his soul free from its suffering.

Or maybe she’s just a girl who needs love just like he does.

Editorial Reviews

From School Library Journal

Grade 7 Up—Sophomore Lucius Wolfe lost both hands in an explosion of his own making, and now he is left to pick up the pieces—with steel hooks. The story is told in alternating chapters by Lucius (Crazy) and Aurora (Beautiful). Baratz-Logsted does a deft job of weaving the perspectives together to show events from both points of view. Lucius chooses a bus seat so as to be left alone and is immediately called "crip"; Aurora gets on the same bus, smiles at people, and hears a voice call "New girl! Come sit back here with us." It doesn't help that Lucius has an air of arrogance about him and has changed schools to find a new start. The author spends equal time on several plotlines: Lucius, the brilliant loner destructo-kid, his amusing sister and his dysfunctional family; Aurora and her newly widowed saintly father; Nick, the good-guy security guard with dreams of the NFL; a school play; a false accusation; and Cecelia and Jessup, the scheming spurned lovers. Resolving everything makes the final chapters feel rushed and too perfect. However, the pacing is energetic and the topics current. Readers who have outgrown MJ Auch's One-Handed Catch and aren't quite ready for Harriet McBryde Johnson's Accidents of Nature (both Holt, 2006) might enjoy Crazy Beautiful.—Maggie Knapp, Trinity Valley School, Fort Worth, TX
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

Review

" . . . a powerful story about recovery and friendship."--Kirkus Reviews

"The story is told in alternating chapters...Baratz-Logsted does a deft job of weaving the perspectives together to show events from both points of view ...the pacing is energetic and the topics current." - School Library Journal

About the Author

Lauren Baratz-Logsted has written books for all ages. Her books for children and young adults include the Sisters Eight series, The Education of Bet and Crazy Beautiful. She lives with her family in Danbury, Connecticut.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

LUCIUS

My arm rises toward my face and the pincer touch of cold steel rubs against my jaw. I chose hooks because they were cheaper. I chose hooks because I wouldn’t outgrow them so quickly. I chose hooks so that everyone would know I was different, so I would scare even myself.

"Lucius!" I hear Mom call from the bottom of the staircase. "If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss the bus. You’ll be late for your first day!"

She sounds so excited.

Like I’m in a hurry to start sophomore year at a brand-new school. Like I’m in a hurry to be the new kid, especially looking like I do, when everyone else in my class will have already established themselves, their friendships and their cliques, back in freshman year. Like this will be something good, like it’ll be anything other than the pure awful I know it will be.

Time to get dressed.

My room is like a white-walled cell. Oh, sure, it has the basics — bed, dresser, desk — but none of the frills my old room had. I have no CD player, no DVD player. I’m not allowed to have a computer, and I’m sure not allowed to have any science stuff anymore. Even the walls are bare.

I lost everything in the explosion — my father would say we lost everything — so a lot of what I don’t have is punishment for that. Also, because we can’t afford to replace a lot of things. Also, self-punishment. We could of course afford at least a few posters, but I don’t want them. I want to be reminded all the time. I know the world won’t let me forget, so I can’t let myself forget either.

The dresser at least contains some decent new clothes, but the jeans I pull out are stiff with their newness, the long-sleeved black T-shirt I pull out stiff as well; I always wear long sleeves, even on the hottest days of summer, to cover my synthetic arms, which extend from just above where my elbows should be to my "wrists," where my hooks begin. When I pull on my socks, I think about how when I was younger I loved the feel of new socks against my skin: not faded or stained, never been washed or worn. But now everything feels too new, like I’m being forced into a costume for a play I want no part of. At least my sneakers, which I’ve been breaking in all summer, have the feel of something I know. It took me two weeks of solid practice to learn how to tie my own laces again, but I refused to get Velcro, and once I mastered those tricky laces, it was like everything else fell into place. In the beginning, I couldn’t even pull on my own underwear without scraping my skin with the hooks, but now I can do it all, and do it fast; briefs instead of boxers, just in case anyone’s curious. Some minutes, it’s possible to forget how much has changed. And in my dreams, I always have real hands.

Down in the kitchen, Dad is in his usual spot (hiding behind the newspaper), Mom is in her usual spot (doing something at the counter), and my younger sister, Misty, is in her usual spot (being a pain wherever she is). Some days, I think Misty is okay, but mostly it’s like she got the memo that kid sisters are supposed to be incredibly annoying and she follows those instructions religiously.

Misty is a smaller version of Mom — tiny, cute, and blond — while everyone has always said I favor Dad. Seeing as Dad is balding and paunchy, I always hope people understand when I say I just don’t see it. But maybe they just mean the eyes are the same. Or maybe the nose. It’s amazing how people can take just one small part of a person and draw massive conclusions.

"Pancakes, Lucius?" Mom offers, her back to me as she does some stuff in front of the microwave.

"No," I say, taking my seat at the kitchen table, "I’m good."

The cushion of the seat feels funny beneath my butt. It’s as though the cushion of the seat at the table in our old kitchen, in our old house, knew my butt perfectly, but this cushion doesn’t know my butt at all. It’s the same as with the jeans and T-shirt, I guess: I don’t know any of it, and none of it knows me.

I suppose it’s not surprising.

The old house, we lived in it all our lives, all my life and Misty’s, at least. This place? We’ve only been here a few months.

How long, I wonder, does it take a thing or a place or even a person to feel like home?

Mom puts a glass of orange juice on the table in front of me, fresh from the carton, even though I didn’t ask for any. Dad still hasn’t said a word. Misty, even though she’s only twelve to my fifteen, is spending all her time checking out her own reflection in a handheld mirror. I think girls call them compacts. Or maybe only moms call them that. Or maybe only my mom. I wonder sometimes: Every time Misty looks in that mirror, is she expecting her reflection to have changed from the last time she looked? Who is it she’s hoping to see? I could tell her, if I thought she’d hear me, that the thing about herself she wants to see change the most probably never will. The universe knows that’s the case with me. I am an expert on that.

In the beginning, I used to look at myself in the mirror all the time, repulsed at what I saw, trying to surprise my own new image by jumping out at the mirror from the sides. What I saw never changed. Now I know it never will. I look like what I look like and except for getting gray and wrinkled will look like this for the rest of my life. It’s not like I’m ever going to be able to do something simple, like diet or pluck my eyebrows — two of Misty’s favorite activities — to ever change the way I look. It’s not like I’m a starfish, able to generate new limbs.

And yet I accept what I’ve done, what I’ve become. I accept who I am, and what my future will undoubtedly be.

Mom must notice that I don’t touch my juice, because she says, "You’re not even going to drink anything, Lucius? Are you that nervous about your first day?"

"No," I say. "I’m not nervous at all." And I’m not — nervous, that is. It’s pointless to be nervous when you know what the outcome of a thing will be. Nervous is only for when you don’t know. "If I pull this switch, what will happen?" "Will the doctor tell me I won’t make it?" "What will adding this one little chemical do to the potion?" "Does the pilot really know how to fly this plane?" No, I’m not nervous. I’m just not exactly looking forward to any of this. "I’m just not hungry," I tell my mom. "Or thirsty. That’s all."

"Well," Misty says, "isn’t anyone going to ask me if I’m nervous?"

"Of course," Mom says. "Are you?"

"No," Misty says, with even more arrogance than I had at her age. Then her expression changes, as if she can’t stop herself from feeling whatever she’s feeling. "Well, maybe."

"You’ll be fine," Mom soothes. "Just be yourself, and I’m sure everyone will like you."

It’s such a Mom thing to say. If everyone in the world would just be themselves, then everyone else in the world would like them. As if it’s ever that easy. If this were a year ago and Misty was angsting about starting something new, I’d tease her. I’d say, "Of course no one will like you, especially if you ‘just be yourself.’ " I’d say it because just like Misty got the memo that she’s supposed to be a brat to me, I got the memo saying that as the big brother I am to make her life miserable. But I can’t do that to Misty today. I know how much I’ve cost her already.

Of which she wastes no time reminding me, as she leans across the table after Mom pokes her head into the fridge, and hiss-whispers, "This is all your fault. If it weren’t for you, we’d never have had to move in the first place."

Mom’s head is still in the fridge and Dad’s head is still behind his newspaper, so I don’t think for more than a split second before raising one of my hooks and holding it over Misty’s head. It’s a menacing way to hold the hook. I know this. I’ve had too much practice this past summer.

I watch as Misty recoils from me, her brother, in horror, as I knew she would. It’s its own brand of scary, seeing someone you’re related to look at you with such fear in her eyes. It’s a look I’ve seen before.

But I don’t care, in the moment. In the moment, I just want to stop being reminded, if only just for a second. I want to take a break from being told that everything in our lives, all the millions of little changes, is my fault. It’s all because of me me me.

Before Mom gets her head back out of the fridge, before Dad peeks over the top of the newspaper, I take my menacing hook and place it back on the table.

I try to smile at Misty, really smile — It was all just a joke, my smile says, begs her to believe, you know? — but she’s not having any.

She doesn’t trust me, and I can’t really say that I blame her. Misty may be an annoying little sister, but she’s not stupid.

So I try to pretend nothing out of the ordinary just happened. I reach for my juice glass with both hooks, but instead of using the hooks I use the plastic wrists of my prosthetics to grasp the glass and raise it to my lips. This is how I drink sometimes. I’m adept with the hooks for fine motor stuff — meaning grabbing or holding on to small objects — but for something like a glass I sometimes resort to this. The doctors told me that later I’d get used to holding on to bigger objects, but that in the beginning mastering the pincer grip would be enough, and that it would all come in time. But first, baby steps. And sometimes I regress. Better to regress than digress, I always tell myself.

I go to put the glass back down on the table, but something goes wrong. I make a misjudgment in spatial relations. Maybe it’s

because the glasses in this house are different from the ones in our old house. Maybe it’s because the table is different. Maybe it’s because I really am, no matter what I say, nervous; nervous about starting over in a new place. Whatever the cause, I misjudge, put the glass down too abruptly or too harshly, and can only watch as it totters, in that excruciating slow-motion way of forthcoming disaster, and then tumbles, sprawling a tiny sea of orange in the direction of Dad’s beloved sports pages.

That finally gets his attention.

Gee, if I’d known spilling my orange juice was this effective, I’d have spilled it in Dad’s direction every day when I was younger. Then maybe he’d have made time to do things with me like, I don’t know, play catch in the yard. Not that I’m complaining or playing the neglected child card. I’ll never do that. I know what I’ve done. I know who’s responsible for everything in my life, past, present, and future. Still, a little catch would have been fun, when I still had hands.

Dad does a little jump in his seat, but maybe the cushions of these chairs still don’t feel right to his butt either, because his reaction time and reflexes are off, and he can’t save the Mets’ scores from being drenched.

This can’t be good. He always reads the paper in a particular order: front page first, because he says it’s irresponsible not to; followed by sports; followed by whatever else he has time for. He won’t like reading a soggy sports section.

You’d think a guy who likes reading the sports pages so much would have found time to play ball with his own kid.

But now I really do digress, and with good reason.

I’m sure he’s going to yell.

All I wanted was a moment, just a second in which I could take a break from being reminded.

But Dad doesn’t yell.

There have been times, many times before today, when I’ve wished he would.

He folds the sports section up in a ball and tosses it to the middle of the table, away from him. It’s a good toss; there’s something athletic about it. Then he snaps the front section as if he’s opening it for the first time that day, as if nothing has happened.

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

That’s when Dad peers at me over the top of his newspaper and issues one of his trademarked glares.

"Whatever you do today," he says, "don’t louse it up. This is your last chance."

Product details

Publisher ‏ : ‎ HMH Books for Young Readers; First Edition (September 7, 2009)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 208 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0547223072
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0547223070
Reading age ‏ : ‎ 12 years and up
Lexile measure ‏ : ‎ 910L
Grade level ‏ : ‎ 7 - 9
Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 12 ounces
Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 5.5 x 0.5 x 8.25 inches

Best Sellers Rank: #4,614,417 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #420 in Teen & Young Adult Fiction on Peer Pressure
- #3,880 in Teen & Young Adult Fiction on Dating & Sex (Books)
- #15,352 in Teen & Young Adult Contemporary Romance

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3.2 63 ratings

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Lauren Baratz-Logsted

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I was an independent bookseller and buyer for 11 years before deciding to take a chance on myself as a novelist. While trying to sell my books, I worked variously as a Publishers Weekly reviewer, a freelance editor, a sort-of librarian, and a window washer. My first novel, The Thin Pink Line, about a woman who fakes an entire pregnancy, was published by Red Dress Ink in 2003 as their own first-ever hardcover. It was published in 11 countries and was the first book from any Harlequin imprint ever to receive a starred Kirkus review. I've since had nearly 40 books published for adults (Vertigo), teens (The Twin's Daughter) and children (The Sisters 8 series, created with my husband and daughter). In 2017, I Love You, Michael Collins for kids ages 8-12 was published and has appeared on 10 state award lists since. In February, 2021, Joint Custody, a comedic romance novel I wrote with my daughter, Jackie, will be published. I live in Danbury, CT, with my wonderful husband Greg and my equally wonderful daughter Jackie and our especially wonderful cat Yoyo.

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Loni

Great Read

Reviewed in the United States on May 17, 2011

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My thoughts: I've had this book in my `to be read' pile for a while now and finally decided to pick it up. It's a very short and small book, so if you have a few uninterrupted hours to burn then you can easily get through this quick read.

Everything about this book drew me in. The premise sounded different from what I've usually read, the cover hints of romance; which is another reason for me wanting to check Crazy Beautiful out. Though I was a little concerned that I may not like it due to the wide range in reviews on this book; some seem to like while other did not. Let me just say, decided for yourself, because I rather enjoyed this book compared to other reviewers. Many say this book is a reminder of the classic "Beauty and the Beast." Sorry, I just don't agree. Lucius is crazy or should I say, was crazy but never did I feel like he was ugly or a beast. Nor did he hold anyone captive until they fell in love with him. I just did not see the resemblance.

Since this story is told from Lucius and Aurora points of view, you get to actually get inside their heads and see and feel their emotions and reasoning. I felt the story is more about Lucius dealing with the aftermath of the stupid decision he made that caused him to get his hands blown off. Hook for hands instead of prosthetic was more a choice on his part as a punishment given to himself to scare people away from him. No one really looked at Lucius before he lost his hand. He was the kid getting pushed around, tripped, shoved into the lockers at school. Now that his hands are gone, all anyone can see of him are his hooks first and never the real human being Lucius really is.

Aurora is suffering too and for an entirely different reason. She is sweet, kind and has always been taught to like a person first until they do something to you that gives you a reason not to like you. This makes Aurora a very likable all-around good person and I loved her! When she meets Lucius, she sees Lucius first and not his hook...thus starting the connection between the two.

The story was face paced, descriptive and well written. My only complaint is that just when the story was over, I wanted it to keep going. Sure this story could have been more but I was satisfied and I think if you're looking for a different, quick read with a good story; pick this book up and see what you think!

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Casey "A Passion for Books"

Crazy Beautiful

Reviewed in the United States on January 31, 2010

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I just adored this book. I read it in one sitting. It was gripping from the beginning to the end.

From first reading the summary, I thought that this was going to be mostly a romantic type of story. But it was more about Lucius learning to recover by accepting what he had done. Also, it's about the kind of friendship that is meant to be treasured forever.

Her writing was brilliantly done. Loved the way she intertwined some good information that teens and adults could take into consideration. And I felt the overall plot was quite original. You don't hear to much about characters with hooks for hands (except for Captain Hook off Peter Pan LOL!)

I personally loved Aurora's character. I can see so much of myself in her. Especially her attitude towards making fun of people who are different before ever getting to know them. I agree with her 100% on that subject - it's only fair to get to know someone before you judge them.

The only problem I had with this book was that it was too short. Also, I wish there could have been more interaction between Lucius and Aurora. Overall, it was a good read and I do recommend this book to those of you who are looking for something short, simple, and cute to read.

Reviewed in the United States on March 3, 2017

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Tritely written with a truly "meh" kind of ending. Really not that great, regardless the age of the reader.
I would not suggest this book.

Reviewed in the United States on February 9, 2010

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I liked the alternating points of view in this book. I enjoyed the same writing style in Shiver and Perfect Chemistry. I liked both characters, however Lucius is not a "perfect" person. Sure, sure he doesn't have hands but he is flawed. But that's cool. There isn't a lot of time spent between the two main characters. This is a story of them learning each other and accepting each other first. I liked to read about that journey though. I was ok with that. The ending...geesh, was abrupt. I didn't like it at all, but the rest of the 190 some pages of the book is very much worth reading.

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Amazon Customer

My favorite

Reviewed in the United States on January 12, 2016

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Always has been my favorite book! Worth a read!

Reviewed in the United States on December 21, 2010

I am a big fan of the Beauty and the Beast tale, but Baratz-Logsted's novel was unforgivably bad. The "Beauty" is Aurora Belle who, besides having a ridiculous name, lacks depth as a character, making her completely unlikable and distant. Lucius is simply unpleasant and doesn't quite seem to transform by the end of the novel. The writing is decent, but the plot barely holds itself together, with students accusing teachers of sexual assault for petty revenge (nearly all high school students of remote intelligence would know better than to dabble in serious accusations to get back at someone).

Not worth your time or your money.

2 people found this helpful

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ClassDreamer'84

A beautiful tender teen love story

Reviewed in the United States on March 26, 2014

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I thought Crazy Beautiful was a wonderful love story. Sure, it doesn't have a whole lot of romance in it - practically none at all. But it's a love story nonetheless. It's also a story about two kids who move into a new neighborhood and new school and have two totally different experiences. This is what I liked about the story. One is unaccepted by the other students and one is immediately accepted. It's heartbreaking, but it's real (though not many new students have hooks for hands). I enjoyed this story very much and read it in about three hours. It was well-paced and not one part was boring.

Reviewed in the United States on April 2, 2011

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I really liked this story. I thought the characters (for the most part) were interesting - especially Lucias. My only complaints are 1) nearly every character has a really stupid, unbelievable name; and 2) it felt unfinished. The book ends suddenly leaving you saying "huh?" There was just so much more story that could have been told and I would have been eager to read it.

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Amazon Customer

Die Schöne und das Biest in moderner und realistischer Version

Reviewed in Germany on June 11, 2012

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Also vorerst muss ich sagen, dass ich dieses Cover absolut bezaubernd finde. Dieses ganze Schwarzweiß sieht einfach wunderschön aus und es glänzt so schön. Wirklich eines meiner Lieblingscover. :D

Die Story wird abwechselnd aus der Sicht von Lucius und Aurora erzählt. Beide Charaktere sind sehr sympathisch und wachsen einem schnell ans Herz.

Lucius ist wohl ein typischer Außenseiter, abgesehen von seinen Haken, die seine Hände ersetzen, die Lucius bei einer Explosion verloren hat. Ich habe ihn wirklich gemocht und ich fand es gut, dass er sich nicht unterkriegen ließ und die dummen Blicke oder blöden Sprüche ignorierte. Das zeugt wirklich von einem starken Charakter. Jedoch merkt man im Laufe des Buches, dass er sehr sensibel ist und seine Gefühle oft hinter einer Fassade versteckt.

Auch Aurora mochte ich, ich fand sie jedoch in der Mitte des Buches etwas nervig, was sich aber zum Glück schnell wieder gelegt hat. Sie lässt sich nicht von den Haken von Lucius abschrecken, sie akzeptiert sie einfach, da sie ein Teil von ihm sind.

Die Liebesgeschichte war auch sehr schön zu lesen, jedoch hätte ich mir mehr Knistern zwischen den beiden gewünscht. Das ist jedoch wahrscheinlich Geschmackssache.

Sehr zu empfehlen.

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mw41317

Beautiful indeed

Reviewed in Germany on September 21, 2014

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Loved this book! Lucius and Aurora feel absolutely real and their story is touching and believable. The main themes of the book - friendship, trust, forgiveness and first love - are beautifully handled and appeal not only to young adult readers. Once I had started I couldn't put this book down and my regret is that it isn't longer...

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Crazy Beautiful Hardcover – September 7, 2009

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