Iris Green, Unseen

Iris Green suffers from the desire common to many teenage girls-to be invisible. Like other extreme impulses this feeling can pass – except when it actually occurs.  When Iris sees Olivia, one of her best friends, kissing her boyfriend Theo the shock of the betrayal renders her invisible, with no idea how she will return to her corporeal state. As a keen photographer her easy access to the school dark room is unquestioned and it is there that she retreats to, hoping to find answers to the mystery from the photos she has just taken.

Iris has long been haunted by the conviction that she has nothing to offer, that people she regards as friends are simply good people who tolerate her and who would much rather be with someone else. Louise Finch is autistic and this novel came out of her desire to ‘write about how love and acceptance can find you, regardless of whether you feel worthy.’  Iris’ invisibility is both literal and metaphorical, as the book’s title signals.  Her invisibility is a double-edged sword, protecting her but also making it too easy to hear what others are saying about her, reinforcing her lack of self-worth.

Her character is imbued with authenticity – I found myself becoming exasperated, frustrated and even, at times, annoyed at her continued self-deprecation until I realised that Finch had put me in the position of all those who knew and cared about her but felt unable to convince her of her worth.  Her best friend Bert is a masterful creation-close, caring and with a marvellous repartee. Their more light-hearted conversations are a study in teenage dialogue, clever and funny, and their serious moments are entirely credible.

The cheating Theo, too, is a hard study-skilled in coercive control, cruel in word and deed when his desires are thwarted. The marvellous moment when an invisible Iris upends a large milkshake over his crotch as he is trying to impress a date will make readers laugh out loud. His counterpart, Baker, like Iris, a photographer, provides a touchstone – emotionally honest, ready to keep his distance but clear about enjoying her company.

When Iris embarks on a course of counselling-reluctantly at first-she finds a refuge and the genesis of a pathway through some of her deepest misconceptions. But it is Baker, her companion in artistic endeavour, who guides her towards a fuller appreciation of her talent and a determination to follow the career path she wants and needs, rather than the one which her domineering (and absent) father wants her to pursue. As her belief in her photography grows, so does her relationship with Baker. There is no easy, sugar-coated all-ends-neatly-tied ending for them, but an honest understanding that they will, on an important level, be a part of each other’s lives for as long as that is important to them.

Iris Green, Unseen will speak to many young adult readers, conveying much which will nullify the insistent judgemental inner voice which is their own worst enemy.