The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh, raw and enlightening

I didn't know there was a Victorian language of flowers. That flowers were used as a form of romantic communication during the Victorian era. Red Roses for love, Daisy for cheerfulness, Rhododendron meant Beware and many other definitions.

I also didn't know that after the age of eighteen children in foster care were often left to fend for themselves. And many end up homeless or in jail.

The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh is one of the most unique novel I have read in a while. I like her heroine, Victoria Jones, fiery, complicated, troubled like Jane Eyre. I also like the honesty and realism of her writing because it takes talent and empathy to write like an orphaned teenage girl out of foster care, full of hurt, anger when you are so unlike that, married with kids. What a feat. And this is her first novel.

I have tried writing short stories myself and still trudging my way to a first draft of a novel and going through that, I have gained a stronger respect and awe for fiction writers who can deliver their stories with such deep emotion amidst a complicated plot.

They are like actors on pages. Because to convey a character’s emotion with enough realism, a writer has to internalize and put herself in a character’s plight so he can write it the most authentic way he can.  And it’s not easy because when one can be easily colored by one's own experiences. More than that, imbibing the mindset of a character and submerging oneself to its psyche can be emotionally exhausting. However, I think that kind of writing is what makes readers sit up and take notice. Like this book.

I’ve seen Ms. Diffenbaugh’s interviews on YouTube and she is a far cry from the angry heroine from her book. She is soft-spoken and is a doting wife and mother to two kids. But she has mentioned that she had been a foster mother so she has first-hand knowledge on the challenges of foster kids.

And it was her experiences with them especially of one foster daughter she had difficulty reaching out to and her advocacy to give emancipated foster children a better life prompted her to write this book. She knows the power of stories.

Given that, I can't help but admire how Ms. Diffenbaugh combined her fascination with the Victorian language of flowers and her cause for foster children in a story. It's amazing how she combined the character's dark emotions to the fragility of these ornamental plants. And how she made the sense of intensity of the main character radiate strongly in the pages.

And so I wonder if the delicate beauty and silent strength of these flowers attracted her character, Victoria to it. Maybe its capacity to survive on a patch of earth and produce such immense colors and shapes mirrored her desire to bloom and survive any rough road she finds herself in.  Well, that’s just my musing. Because like Victoria, I also like flowers but only taking pictures of them especially during the summer. I also admire the resiliency of some of them especially the wildflowers.

I have read the word redemption surrounding this book. And it certainly is because the path of redemption for Victoria Jones has not been easy. Her reluctance of accepting help and love had been difficult. But redemption will find her eventually in the most unexpected way, one she never imagined it to be. She will learn it not only as a daughter, a lover but also as a mother. 

Overall, The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh is a book that will not only let you look at flowers a different way but include you in a sad story that sometimes happens to emancipated foster care children who are in the transition phase of their lives. It brings you closer to their struggles and makes you realize that without proper guidance from adults, they sometimes have difficulty surviving on their own.

And for the author writing this powerful story was not enough, she also established the Camellia Network (http://www.camellianetwork.org), an organization that will let people actively help these foster children as they transition to adulthood. Bravo to that. 

Here are some excerpts on Ms. Diffenbaugh’s book: 

“The morning of my eviction I awoke before dawn. My room was empty, the floor still damp and dirty in patches where the milk jugs had been. My imminent homelessness had not been a conscious decision; yet, rising to dress on the morning I was to be turned out onto the street, I was surprised to find that I was not afraid. Where I had expected fear, or anger, I was filled with nervous anticipation, the feeling similar to what I’d experienced as a young girl, on the eve of each new adoptive placement. Now, as an adult, my hopes for the future were simple: I wanted to be alone, and to be surrounded by flowers. It seemed, finally, that I might get exactly what I wanted.”

“My room was empty except for three sets of clothes, my backpack, a toothbrush, hair gel and the books Elizabeth had given me. Lying in bed the night before, I’d listened to my housemates picking through the rest of my belongings like hungry animals devouring the fallen. It was standard procedure in foster and group homes, the scouring of things left behind by rushed, weepy children. My housemates, emancipated, carried on the tradition.”

“Elizabeth nodded.”I love it”. She stood and brought it to the table, setting it between us, I studied the way the individual flowers clustered around the single stalk, their sharp points fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Something about the configuration of the petals made me believe that forgiveness should come naturally, but in this family, it hadn’t. I thought about the decades of misunderstandings, from the yellow rose to the fire, the thwarted attempts at forgiving and being forgiven.”