Lucky, by Alice Sebold

August 26th, 2011

by Meredith Nudo

Trigger Warning: This book and, by extension, my review contain explicit, frank discussions of rape and sexual assault.

At least one out of every four college women survive a sexual assault while in school. This tragically common experience often carries with it a crushing burden of dehumanization, shame, stigma, trauma and even isolation. Despite its prevalence, however, the general public still sees fit to perpetuate some disgusting, ugly stereotypes and assumptions about victims. Both women and men (yes, Virginia, they can be victimized as well) who bravely open up about their horrific experiences play a pivotal part in dismantling these dangerous, damaging perceptions. In Lucky, Alice Sebold intensely reflects upon the night she was raped "among the dead leaves and broken bottles" (3) of a park and how it came to impact her family, friendships, relationships and schooling. A Syracuse freshman, she stuns everyone after deciding to return to school after the terrifying incident, because "the rapist had already taken so much from [her]. [She] was not going to let him take anything more" (92-93). Sebold admits the trauma left her feeling "disassembled, gagged, dead" (8) and like she held "more in common with the dead girl" (3) previously murdered and hacked to pieces in the very same park.

The title comes from her initial police report. One officer claims she's "lucky" (3) to be alive rather than suffering the same bloody fate as another young woman. In truth, though, the experience renders her wanting to "[lob] off each part of [her] body" (8) the rapist contacted. She finds herself drowning in an overall dirty, disconnected, "ruined" (29) sensation. "Ignorance" (59) from friends and family incapable of fathoming or relating to her severe mental, emotional and physical pain inspire anger and anxiety, which perpetually bubble beneath her darkly comedic surface. But a chance encounter with the perpetrator proves her return to Syracuse a fortuitous decision. After seeing and hearing his taunts on the street, she is able to finally press charges. Sebold relates the entire exhausting process – from identifying to prosecution – with considerable detail, sparing no emotions or insights. Lucky proves ultimately bittersweet. While the author undoubtedly suffered beneath one of the most dehumanizing crimes imaginable, watching her assailant receive "the maximum for rape and sodomy" (201) provided some comfort and closure. But that doesn't inherently mean her emotional scars entirely faded, either.

Sebold's compulsions towards losing weight, dieting, makeovers, boyfriends and – eventually – heroin and reckless behavior all reflect a desire to "destroy" (235) and escape her own emotions. Reading herself quoted in a book about post-traumatic stress disorder eventually leads her to admit she probably suffers from the oft-misunderstood condition. Considering her mother's poorly-addressed "panic and anxiety was infectious" (40) and often caused serious filial rifts, Sebold's extreme reactions make saddening sense. Even after the trial, she "hated [her] body" (203) and dieted and exercised obsessively. Eating disorders frequently crop up in reaction to sexual assault, as does substance abuse. Lucky is an exceptionally important book because it exposes the horrific aftermath of rape and other sexually violent displays – humanizes individuals violated and objectified in one of the worst ways possible. In one tearjerking scene, Sebold reflects on a UPenn student whose attackers "made it impossible for her to stay in school" (55). Graffiti depicting the victim "with her legs spread open…[and] a group of male figures…waiting in line beside her" (55) transforms her trauma into a punchline. Courageous memoirs like this give voice to the frequently voiceless. An estimated 60% of women and men on the receiving end of sexual violence never report the incident, and 15 out of 16 rapists never receive jail time for their crimes. Perhaps most disconcertingly, 48.8% of sexually violated college women don't believe a crime ever took place, and 56% of female and 76% of male high school students believe there are occasions where forcing sex is acceptable behavior. Society needs Lucky and other personal stories to illustrate that overarching perceptions of rape and sexual assault need serious altering.

That being said, Sebold's experiences do differ from the typical collegiate sexual assault experience. 80% of victims knew their attacker in some capacity, and her trauma was perpetuated by a complete stranger. 74% of criminals had consumed alcohol prior to attacking, as did 55% of their victims. Not a drop touched this particular case. Considering Sebold's virginity and "Calvin Klein jeans, blue work shirt, heavy beige cable-knit cardigan sweater, [and] moccasins" (125) at the time her rape took place, she avoided the same painstaking scrutiny all too often levied onto victims who drink, have sex and sometimes enjoy showing a little skin. People, often women, implied as asking for it, should've seen it coming, probably lying or some similar nonsense. I wonder how Sebold's story would've changed had she not been what society considers a perfect victim. Would she receive the same justice if she unwittingly drank a drugged alcoholic beverage? Weren't a virgin? Wore short skirts? None of these should EVER really be a factor during a rape trial, and yet somehow…they are. All too often, these elements mean the difference between pity and…well…ending up the subject of sexually degrading graffiti.

Wile the wrenching pain and risks of PTSD, eating disorders and addiction afflict the victim regardless of these factors – as Lucky so viscerally proves – I do wonder how much stress would've been packed on had anything changed in the aforementioned regards. Sebold does touch upon such things, particularly when talking about the trial and how she had to frustratingly explain the terrifying logistics to her father. But since such things never cropped up in her trauma, it's not like she could offer up any firsthand perspectives. I certainly uphold this memoir as an undeniably, absolutely essential read furthering the discussion of rape and sexual assault and challenging popular assumptions about victims and victimhood. At the same time, though, individuals wanting to learn more need to know that no two rape and/or sexual assault experiences are going to be the same. The only way to truly understand how these atrocities happen, end up affecting those on the receiving end and the myriad questions and misconceptions society holds remains, simply, education. So think of Lucky as a worthy introduction to exploring the issue, but not the lone voice. Get involved with campus crisis centers, RAINN, Take Back the Night or a similar organization for a broader look at what's at stake. There, you'll hear many more stories both similar to and completely different than the one at the center of this book. Many of them will probably involve the humiliation from feeling almost as on trial as the perpetrators themselves, whether it be because of sexual history or clothing choices. The important thing to remember is that none of these women and men are to blame for what happened, however frequently they end up told otherwise. Society may perceive Sebold as the supposedly rare example of the perfect victim, but other innocents are no more at fault than she was.

Bibliographic Information

Sebold, Alice. Lucky. Boston: Back Bay, 2002.

Lucky was suggested by Halie Hartman, so big thanks to her! If you have any suggestions for future book reviews, feel free to contact me at mnudo (at) oedb (dot) org! I'm emphasizing reads about college and college life, so try to stick with those particular themes. Thanks!

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