Review: 13 Minutes by Sarah Pinborough
Having quite the yearning to read a teen novel, I picked up “13 Minutes” by Sarah Pinborough for a second time. Marketed under the genres of mystery, thriller, suspense and psychological fiction, this novel is set in England and entails a story of sixteen-year-old Natasha Howland, who was found in the local river, dead for “13 Minutes” before being resuscitated. This proceeds to haunt Natasha and she employs the help of an old friend, Rebecca Crisp (whom Natasha discarded at the height of her popularity as a “Barbie”), to aid in her search for the culprit, no longer trusting her two “forever friends” Haley and Jenny. The novel is constructed with segments from Rebecca’s point of view; snippets of Natasha’s diary; sessions of counselling with Dr Harvey and texts between Jenny and Haley, all offering an inside perspective to each of the main characters as the secrets begin to unravel.
However, just like the first time, I strongly disliked every character I came across. What with a significant period of time passing between each reading, I neglected the memory of these characters — but their overly explicit language and derogatory nature towards each other makes each distinctly unlikeable. Those who are painted as “friends” definitely don’t reflect that in mind, though this may be intentional to show Pinborough’s perceived nature of teenagers as a whole. But it is this explicit and derogatory outlook that makes it difficult, if not impossible, to sympathise with these characters. As a teenager myself, I know that my own mind does not work in this manner, which makes these characters appear all the more terrible as people and atypical of the teenage experience. For those reasons, no character that I encountered took to my liking.
As aforementioned, the characters are rather explicit — as is, by nature, the novel itself. Not only is the language intense in this regard, but there is strong sexual imagery and drug use throughout. The presence of drugs is so significant, in fact, that it leads you to believe you are the ultimate drug lord! (I’m kidding) But all jokes aside, the drug use can be quite excessive, so if that is something you dislike, perhaps this book wouldn’t be for you.
In regards to the sexual content, this is also in abundance. We see one highly graphic sex scene between Becca Crisp and her boyfriend Aiden, a couple who’s sex life is marvelled at and written about in Natasha’s diary, in which she berates overtly sexual individuals. She even ridicules her so-called best friend Jenny for “[doing] that for ‘love’”, Jenny being a particularly sexual character, which happens to play heavily into the plot.
This combination of heavy sex and drug use has the novel marketed at “not suitable for younger readers” as shown in a banner on the back cover that I failed to notice the first time as a younger reader. This, however, means my mistake can be avoided.
Throughout the novel, a sense of telling rather than showing is apparent. From the beginning, it’s highly likely you will know who the culprit is — at least, I did, and not because I had read it before. The culprit is very clearly guilty. It’s the proving that has to be done. One prime example of this telling rather than showing is when the “mystery” is solved — a series of newspaper articles reveal the motive of the culprit which had not been clearly hinted at before, if at all, and is a key plot point that could have been developed further. This was dissatisfying as a significant conflict was set up, played out and resolved in a matter of pages. However, I do think this plot point is relevant to the story and fits the characters as we have been led to perceive them, also making their prior actions all the more shocking in relation to the magnitude of their motive. Therefore, this aspect of the novel is rather impressive (although the matter itself is quite disturbing)
Perhaps one of the greatest aspects of this novel was the recurring imagery of the number thirteen — Natasha, dead for thirteen minutes, begins to count thirteens everywhere. Although this motif is neglected at times, I find it particularly powerful in demonstrating the sheer psychological affect of Natasha’s “death”. It shows a weakness within a character that otherwise maintains a facade of perfection. This is, therefore, a crucial aspect to the plot, as Natasha has no memory of the accident but that she was under for thirteen minutes, so this is what she clings to. Overall, Natasha appears to have an unhealthy relationship with the idea of death, having come so close, and obsesses over the circumstances of her own short one. Thus, by incorporating this powerful motif, Pinborough is able to explore the aftermath of such a traumatic event on an otherwise ordinary girl.
Despite all of the above (constructive) criticism, I did read this book for a second time. Regardless of the time between each reading causing me to forget most of the plot, I was drawn to it once again. This acts as testament to the story — perhaps it was the relatability of the setting that drew me back in, or the want to read a mystery, which is not my typical genre. Therefore, I cannot discredit it entirely. Aside from the characters, the book is rather enjoyable, and I don’t doubt I’ll probably read it again in the future.
