Warning, maybe: Some spoilers? 
 A pit bull had recently killed a woman in San Francisco. Was it strange that people loved these creatures that could harm them? Or was it understandable--that they maybe even loved animals more for their restraint, for the way they blessed humans with temporary safety. --133 
 First, I think you need to know this: I am a Charles Manson NUT and one of my favorite books of all time is 
 Helter Skelter 
 . So I was really excited about this and pretty sure I'd like it but also a little afraid I would very much HATE it. 
 Goddamit it was it good. It reminded me why I love reading so much. It was purely enjoyable and thought-provoking. I wish I could read it for the first time again. 
 Getting to know Evie, we are really able to see how she could align herself with this weird cult set to murder people. Emma Cline made it really believable: 
 Everyone, later, would find it unbelievable that anyone involved in the ranch would stay in that situation. A situation so obviously bad. But Suzanne had nothing else: she had given her life completely over to Russell, and by then it was like a thing he could hold in his hands, turning over and over, testing its weight. Suzanne and the other girls had stopped being able to make certain judgments, the unused muscle of their ego growing slack and useless. It has been so long since any of them had occupied a world where right and wrong existed in any real way. Whatever instincts they'd ever had--the weak twinge in the gut, a gnaw of concern--had become inaudible. If those instincts had ever been detectable at all. --281 
 [Sasha] had already absented herself, I knew, gone to that other place in her mind where Julian was sweet and kind and life was fun, or if it wasn't fun, it was interesting, and wasn't that valuable, didn't that mean something? --338 
 I did want more from this book. I wanted more weirdness. More hints of how fucked the ranch and the whole situation was. I think more of the disturbing, factual details would have made the book juicier. But maybe that's not what Emma Cline WANTED. I wasn't MAD at her for not giving me more. I accepted it and thought, "this is what she has given us and she did a fantastic job doing it." There was beauty in the normalcy and plainness. (Even though the writing was not plain.) But I mean, if you didn't know that they were going to commit murder, I wonder if you would be totally surprised. 
 OH, btw: Why does she use the word "snap" on every page? What does it mean? 
 This book speaks volumes about conditioning girls in a culture that has a very specific idea of who they should be, that thinks they need to sit in the back seat. 
 Without having to think about it, I knew Julian and Zav were sitting in the front seats and Sasha was in the back. I could imagine her leaning forward from time to time, asking for a joke to be repeated or pointing out some funny road sign. Trying to campaign for her own existence, before finally giving up and lying back on the seat. --345 
 And the relationship between Suzanne and Evie will haunt me. How Evie, dealing with family tumult, disappointing (and ultimately severed) friendships, and growing into a woman, was driven to Suzanne for comfort. 
 Russell had changed, things had soured, but I was with Suzanne. Her presence corralled any stray worries. Like the child who believes that her mother's bedtime vigil will ward off monsters. The child who cannot decipher that her mother might be frightened, too. The mother who understands she can do nothing for protection except offer up her own weak body in exchange. --312 
 It takes balls to write about a little boy being murdered. Most people don't do it. So it's like... we don't know how it should be done? This is how it should be done: 
 This is the part that isn't written about anywhere, but the part I imagine most. / How Suzanne's hands must have already been sprayed with blood. The warm medical stink of the body on her clothes and hair. And I can picture it, because I knew every degree of her face. The calming mystic air on her, like she was moving through water. / "Come on," she said one last time, and the boy inched toward her. Then he was in her lap, and she held him there, the knife like a gift she was giving him. --329 
 I think it's time to read Helter Skelter again.