The Reckless Kind

by Carly Heath

Overview

A genre-defying debut, this queer historical YA centers a wild and reckless trio who fly in the face of small-town tradition—full of compassion, love, and determination to live the lives of their choosing.

It’s 1904 on an island just west of Norway, and Asta Hedstrom doesn’t want to marry her odious betrothed, Nils. But her mother believes she should be grateful for the possibility of any domestic future, given her single-sided deafness, unconventional appearance, and even stranger notions. Asta would rather spend her life performing in the village theater with her fellow outcasts: her best friend Gunnar Fuglestad and his secret boyfriend, wealthy Erlend Fournier.

But the situation takes a dire turn when Nils lashes out in jealousy—gravely injuring Gunnar. Shunning marriage for good, Asta moves with Gunnar and Erlend to their secluded cabin above town. With few ties left to their families, they have one shot at gaining enough kroner to secure their way of life: win the village’s annual horse race.

Despite Gunnar’s increasing misgivings, Asta and Erlend intend to prove this unheard-of arrangement will succeed. Asta trains as a blacksmith; Erlend cares for recovering Gunnar. But as race day approaches, the villagers’ hateful ignorance only grows stronger. With this year’s competition proving dangerous for the trio, Asta and Erlend soon find they face another equally deadly peril: the possibility of losing Gunnar, and their found family, forever.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781641292818
Publisher:	Soho Press, Incorporated
Publication date:	11/09/2021
Pages:	336
Product dimensions:	5.80(w) x 8.10(h) x 1.30(d)
Age Range:	14 - 17 Years

About the Author

Carly Heath earned her BA from San Francisco State University and her MFA from Chapman University. Originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, Carly teaches design, art, theater, and writing for various colleges and universities. She currently lives on the West Coast and tends a menagerie of rescued farm animals. The Reckless Kind is her first novel.

Read an Excerpt

1
False Gods and Unnatural Passions

Asta Hedstrom

Gunnar’s arm was gone—everything below the elbow. Though Erlend’s mama had bundled it in calico bandages, I kept imagining his injury and what he must’ve endured during the accident—the sound of the snap, the jolt of pure agony, the hours he’d likely suffered until Herr Doktor Engen arrived to treat him. Gunnar Fuglestad was my best friend since childhood and one month ago he’d almost died.
     The bleeding didn’t do him in, but the septic infection nearly did and now his skin shone pale as a corpse. Gunnar: a corpse. The vision struck me like a rifle-ball to the gut.
     I had to sit down.
     Near the foot of Erlend’s four-poster stood a dainty slipper chair. Quietly, I pulled it close to the side of the mattress, nearest to where Gunnar lay beneath the quilts. As I settled onto the ornately patterned seat, I wondered why Erlend had asked me to come to his house to resume our theater rehearsals if my scene partner remained not only abed, but also terribly debilitated.
     Looking over Gunnar once more, I sighed in relief at the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Though it’d only been a month since the accident, it felt like an eternity since I’d last seen him—the longest we’d been apart since we first became friends. Erlend’s parents, the Fourniers, had taken him in upon hearing about the calamity at the Fuglestads’ farm, but each time I had tried to visit, Fru Fournier insisted Gunnar was quite unwell and quite unable to see anyone. Now, finally, I knew what she meant. Quite unwell meant Gunnar’s arm was quite missing and the rest of him quite unconscious. I wiped my sweating palms on my skirt.
     Breeze from the Norwegian Sea usually subdued our summer heat, but this morning’s air settled into an oppressive swelter. Despite the temperature, Gunnar slept beneath a blanket of silk jacquard, his head tilted to the side, his ginger lashes heavy and still. A scab, shaped like a falcon in flight, spanned the width of his forehead; a yellowing bruise marred one cheekbone. Sweat sheened upon his brow and corded his blood-red hair, and yet, somehow, he still smelled like cinnamon and rain.
     With my brown huckaback pinafore and Gunnar’s many-hued wounds, the two of us seemed so out of place in the expanse of Erlend’s bedroom—double doors on one side, portière on the other, imported piano, ski medals, rococo mirrors. The refined luxury forced me to find things I hadn’t noticed about Gunnar Fuglestad before: the rough orange stubble on his jaw, oddly precocious for a boy who’d only just turned seventeen, and the hardness that remained on his face even in slumber.
     With a steaming forehead and a twinge of guilt, I found myself thinking about the play. If Gunnar were to recover in time, his Benedick would have one arm. It might still work. Much Ado began with men returning from war, so Benedick could’ve lost his limb in battle. Gunnar would likely have a number of clever ideas on how to play the part one-handed. He’d make it brilliant.
     The tip, top, tip of Erlend’s slippers echoed through the bedchamber. A flush of heat invaded my chest. Sounds coming from things I couldn’t see always made me anxious as a cornered hen. I was born with an unhearing left ear, so I’d developed a habit of turning to the right until I’d find the source of a sound. Erlend tried to keep me from doing it on stage. An actress needs to face the audience, he’d say. But even after weeks of rehearsals, I still fought the urge to face my castmates. And in real life, where I’d be unrehearsed and unscripted, I’d always turn right, then right again, and right once more until I could finally identify the location of the noise-maker. Twisting in my chair now, I spotted Erlend standing in the doorway, script pages folded in his hand.
     Erlend. Glorious Erlend.
     Only recently, during rehearsals, did I realize he was handsome. Before, I’d have used other words to describe his face: pleasant, kind, sweet. From his French papa, he’d inherited a deep bronze complexion—an anomaly in this land of sunburn and freckles.
     “Thank you for coming, Asta.” His tense gaze landed on Gunnar’s sleeping figure. “Has Fuglestad dozed off again?”
     I nodded.
     “Hell.”
     I turned back to Gunnar. Above his wraps, the short sleeve of his undershirt stretched thin and tight around his bicep. A rumple of pulled-away blankets revealed the beige twill of his trousers. He must’ve dressed prior to my arrival. Perhaps the effort of it had been too much.
     “Look.” Erlend shoved the pages into his desk. “I’m sorry. Maybe we shouldn’t rehearse today. Clearly, he needs more rest.”
     If only I’d known he was this bad. If only I could’ve done something. I got up and joined Erlend on the far side of the room. Hoping not to wake Gunnar, I kept my voice so quiet I nearly mouthed the words. “Has he been like this since the accident?”
     “He looked better this morning,” Erlend whispered. “That’s why I sent for you. Fuglestad insisted—he wanted to start rehearsing again.”
     Gunnar insisted? How could he insist on anything? The poor boy lay still as a carcass.
     “Erlend”—I spoke as softly as I could—“what happened to him?”
     What little I knew came from town gossip: Something occurred up at the Fuglestad farm; Sigrid died and her two boys, Fred and Gunnar, were injured. When the Fourniers ventured up there to see how they could help, they came home with Gunnar, who lingered near death for almost a month while Fru Fournier tended to his sickness—clearly the result of his mysteriously mangled limb and Herr Doktor Engen’s befouled amputation.
     “Erlend?”
     “I don’t know,” he said.
     There were a million other questions I wanted to ask, but the strained look on Erlend’s face dissuaded me—for the moment, at least. While I liked to think of Erlend as my friend, being the theater’s director separated him from the rest of us. Maybe it was the mystique of his family’s wealth, the precision of his tailored garments, or the way he seemed so much older than his eighteen years, but something about Erlend Fournier remained beyond reach.
     Watching me, Erlend bit his lip. “His mama was killed.”
     “Yes, I’d heard that.” It was what everyone in town had been saying, but no one would tell me how. Now, Erlend’s unease suggested he didn’t know anything more than I did. He’d gone to their farm, though. Surely he had to have seen something.
     “And his younger brother?” I asked. “They say he was injured as well.”
     “Papa and I told him he’d be welcome to come here, but the boy maintained he needed to stay at the farm and tend to the animals.”
     All this uncertainty surrounding the Fuglestads pulled my insides into knots. I needed Gunnar to be safe, forever—away from whatever tragedy unfolded at his family’s place up on Old Viking Road.
     Erlend would protect Gunnar. Of that I had no doubt. But what about Erlend’s parents? They were wealthy and generous, but that didn’t mean they’d be interested in taking in this ginger-haired heathen as their permanent ward.
     “Will he stay here?” I pressed. “Will you get to keep him?”
     “Keep him?”
     “He can’t go back.” Though I’d never been to the Fuglestads’ farm and didn’t know much about their family life, I did know what everyone said about Herr Fuglestad—that the man was a drunk. Was he violent? Had his fury been what injured Gunnar? I made my voice firm. “He can’t go back to his papa.”
     The rustle of bedclothes stopped me from saying more.
     “Asta.” Gunnar’s deep voice rattled like pebbles inside a tin can. “You’re making me sound like an orphaned kitten.”
     I rushed back across the room and to his bedside.
     “Baby kitten!” I squealed, attempting to pet him, attempting to bring a smile to his bruised and sleep-swollen face—attempting to quell my own worry.
     He shielded himself with a pillow as I pawed his head. “Yes, and this kitten”—the pillow muffled his words—“has caused the Fourniers too much trouble.”
     Erlend stepped closer. “You’re not the trouble, Fuglestad. It’s Pastor Odegard. He’s the troublemaker.”
     “Odegard wouldn’t be making trouble if your parents hadn’t brought a heathen into their home.”
     Smiling now, I lowered myself back into the seat. Gunnar’s family never attended church and, much to the town’s dismay, didn’t hide their pagan practices. “Making trouble?”
     “Since Mama’s been taking care of Fuglestad,” Erlend explained, “we haven’t been to church and Odegard’s been saying things about the theater.”
     My smile fell. Anything Odegard had to say about the theater wouldn’t be good. With its opulent fittings and spacious foyers, the Fourniers’ playhouse was the only structure in town made of white stone rather than wood. During the warm seasons, enormous planters of red roses lined its portico while a cast-iron fountain dribbled melodiously upon the shaded terrace—such a contrast to the surrounding plain houses, which weren’t adorned with anything more elaborate than a few small window boxes stuffed with myrtles. Had it not been for Herr Fournier’s fortune and unending desire to provide his only son with such spectacular indulgences, the theater would’ve never been built, much less produce enough kroner to remain in operation. Was the pastor’s dissatisfaction over the extravagance of its appearance, the antics of its players, or the fact Erlend Fournier—the eighteen-year-old theatrical genius who’d served as our leader for the past five years—favored art over hunting or fishing, and made no effort to hide his interest in literature while other boys engaged in roughhousing and team sports. With Odegard knowing Erlend’s influence on so many of us, the pastor once remarked on the dangerous trend toward softness amongst the young men of our generation and, though he didn’t mention Erlend’s name, the reference was undeniable.
     Perhaps I noticed such things because I, too, was quite different from everyone else in town. When I was a schoolgirl, the other children asked if I was an elf or a fairy. Mama said it was because I had thin lips, as if the large space between my unmatching eyes and the white chunk in my brown hair weren’t far more talked about than the fact my mouth lacked a Cupid’s bow. Herr Doktor Engen called what I had a condition, but never gave it a name or a remedy. Not that I needed one. I had something better than two working ears and same-colored irises. I had my best friend, Gunnar Fuglestad, to keep me company.

Editorial Reviews

10/11/2021

Heath’s debut unfolds against the vividly drawn backdrop of 1904 Norway, tracing the lives of three teens intent on finding their own way. Born with Waardenburg syndrome, asexual Asta Hedstrom, 18, has been taught that she should be grateful for her betrothal to Nils, a local man willing to overlook her “flaws.” Though she wants only to continue acting in the village theater, she resigns herself to her fate, until Nils attacks her best friend, Gunnar, in a fit of jealousy. The moment of violence forces Asta to acknowledge the truth: she cannot marry Nils. Instead, she moves with Gunnar, who has depression as well as a spinal injury and a partial arm amputation, and his half-French boyfriend, Erlend, whose anxiety is causing ulcers, to an isolated cabin. But to maintain their freedom, the trio must first win the village’s annual horse race—and its 2,000-kroner prize. In a book that frequently focuses on relationships over narrative tension, smooth writing brings the historical background to life while, through Asta and Gunnar’s dual narration, delicately exploring themes of disability, independence, found family, and various forms of love. Elegant, folk-style illustrations by Perrin top each chapter; “Historical and Medical Notes” contextualize “the limitations of the language of the time” vis-à-vis representation. Ages 14–up. Agent: Stephen Chudney, the Chudney Agency. (Nov.)

Publishers Weekly

Praise for The Reckless Kind

Winner of the 2021-2022 Whippoorwill Award for Rural YA Literature

“A beautiful and triumphant debut; this trio of fierce yet loving queer teens boldly making their way in the world has won a place in my heart, just like they will yours!”
—Sarah Glenn Marsh, author of the Reign of the Fallen series

“Three queer disabled teens forge their own path to love, family, and independence in this nuanced, delightful, and beautifully set historical adventure. If you read to be inspired that a better future is out there and in your control, this is the book for you.”
—Dahlia Adler, editor of That Way Madness Lies

“Carly Heath's writing jumps off the page to create an immersive world with lovable, queer characters who will steal your heart. A gorgeous tale of love and friendship, The Reckless Kind will utterly transport you.”
—Rosiee Thor, author of Tarnished Are the Stars

“Although the setting might be the cold fjords of Scandinavia, The Reckless Kind is a book full of warmth, heart, and grit. Through great tragedies and even greater love, it captures from the first word with its stellar writing and vivid characters a truly beautiful story that will wrap around your heart and never let go.”
—Diana Pinguicha, author of A Curse of Roses

“Those who appreciate stories of teens forging their own trails in a society that pushes them on a narrow path will grab The Reckless Kind and not let go. While Asta is being told who she must love, Erlend is told who he cannot love, and their struggles to choose and keep their soulmates will resonate across time and place. Heath’s setting is a magical world of twilight and night where intrigues brew and quirky, courageous young people show the way to a more humane world.”
—Lyn Miller-Lachmann, author of Gringolandia

“The Reckless Kind is an exquisite debut. Heath has crafted a folktale about found families and the breadth of love that's both immediate and timeless. I didn't want to put it down—it felt like coming home.”
—Saundra Mitchell, author of All the Things We Do in the Dark and editor of Out Now

“This novel has a lot of moving parts that work extremely well together, from its equine elements to the deep character studies of its complex cast to its depiction of disability and sexuality. Gunnar is depressed from his chronic pain, often lashing out at Erlend, and Asta is on a quest to keep her friends happy and find direction for her life that doesn’t involve marriage. Teens who fantasize about the living with the queer found-family of their dreams get to indulge.”
—The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books, Starred Review

“A beacon of hope to nonconforming teens and young adults.” 
—Historical Novel Society

“[An] emotionally grounded queer fairy tale . . . This work will tug the heartstrings of anyone who loved Mackenzi Lee’s The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue and wished Frozen lived up to its queer potential.” 
—School Library Journal

“Found family vibes abound in this historical adventure starring three queer, disabled teens who set out to make a home of their own.” 
—Buzzfeed

“Alternating between Asta’s and Erlend’s points of view, The Reckless Kind explores the bravery and brutality required to carve out unconventional paths in a time in which otherness was shunned and people were rejected to the fringes of society because of their sexuality, mental illness, religious beliefs or disabilities. Heath takes great care in conveying Asta and Erlend’s optimism in spite of Gunnar’s harrowing physical challenges . . . Readers who enjoyed the equestrian culture of Maggie Stiefvater’s The Scorpio Races will enjoy the heart-pounding horse race in the final act, but Heath’s thoughtful portrayal of headstrong teenagers who successfully defy the expectations of their time has broad appeal.” 
—BookPage

“A beautifully told work of queer historical fiction.” 
—Pop Sugar

“This YA debut from Carly Heath transports readers.”
—Bookish

“Debut author Heath manages to tackle a number of topics in this historical novel, exploring themes of identity, found family, sexuality, and disability. Additionally, asexual Asta has Waardenburg syndrome, Gunnar struggles with depression after a partial arm amputation, and Erlend shows signs of anxiety. The historical details and cast of characters keep the momentum going, and the plot never feels heavy-handed. A great addition for inclusive coming-of-age stories and found family where the characters are not defined by what makes them different.”
 —Booklist

“The plot is engaging, but the real magic lies in the characters and their relationships. Each has a condition that they struggle with to varying degrees . . . Their disabilities have a material impact on their lives—and on the story—but, crucially, don’t define them. The author explores their experiences with care and reminds readers that no one is “perfect”; the line between able and disabled is socially constructed and movable . . . A tender tale of queer love, disability, and self-discovery.”
—Kirkus Reviews

From the Publisher

12/01/2021

Gr 9 Up—It's 1904, near the Norwegian Sea, and budding actress Asta's parents think that because of her single-sided deafness, she should marry horrid Nils. Asta, however, longs for queer-platonic intimacy beyond marriage with her one-armed best friend Gunnar and his secret boyfriend, the young theater director Erlend. When jealous Nils attacks and wounds Gunnar, the three friends flee to a remote farm. They abandon the theater, and their solution to financial precarity is for Asta to train as a farrier, tame a wild horse, and win a Christmas sleigh race. This emotionally grounded queer fairy tale is anchored by Asta and Erlend's attempts to protect their shared object of desire. Asta is mischievous and scrappy; Erlend is princely. Both the blindness of his privilege and his greatness of heart allow him to abandon luxury for love. And Gunnar? Using Asta and Erlund—but not Gunnar—as narrators produces surprising revelations. The book excels when depicting Gunnar's life with chronic pain, without miraculous cures. The writing and description are vivid; however, there's an ambiguity as to whether Asta lives in a historical or a semi-fantastical context. The afterword provides useful information on the novel's representation of medical conditions, yet sources for local details like Valkyrie sapphires and marriage horses would be enriching, not to mention information on the period's queer culture. VERDICT This work will tug the heartstrings of anyone who loved Mackenzi Lee's The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue and wished Frozen lived up to its queer potential.—Katherine Magyarody, Texas A&M Univ., College Station

School Library Journal

2021-07-27
Three young Scandinavians seek ways to live nontraditionally.

Set in a small village in an unspecified Nordic country in 1904, this story is narrated by 18-year-olds Asta and Erlend. Asta is engaged to be married but is not sure she wants to marry her intended—or anyone at all. Half French Erlend is a promising young actor willing to give it all up (a romantic move but perhaps not the best life lesson) to be with handsome outcast Gunnar. The plot is engaging, but the real magic lies in the characters and their relationships. Each has a condition that they struggle with to varying degrees: asexual Asta has Waardenburg syndrome; Gunnar has a partial arm amputation, a spinal injury, and depression; Erlend has anxiety and ulcers. (Heath is careful to avoid anachronism by eschewing labels or diagnoses that would not have been available to individuals at the time.) Their disabilities have a material impact on their lives—and on the story—but, crucially, don’t define them. The author explores their experiences with care and reminds readers that no one is “perfect”; the line between able and disabled is socially constructed and movable. Although the characters face discrimination for their queerness, they also find love and support that are uplifting without being excessively idealistic. Perrin’s Norwegian rosemaling-style art enhances the opening page of each chapter.

A tender tale of queer love, disability, and self-discovery. (historical and medical notes) (Historical fiction. 14-18)

Kirkus Reviews