With "Flowers in the Attic," V.C. Andrews created one of the best firecrackers in trashy, pulpy novel history. The Dollangangers were a family whose trust issues are slowly revealed in ways that are increasingly bizarre but somehow rationalized thanks to how Andrews wrote the prose in very manipulative and compelling ways. Some may argue that its themes are at times too uncomfortable or exist solely for shock value, but from a prose standpoint, it was riveting and relied on what the audience needs in a good book. It needs to stay hooked, and she found a way to keep the plot moving even as the characters remained trapped in an attic, constantly struggling with sanity. They felt real and vulnerable, where even their slow dive into a controversial legacy felt warranted. This was the epitome of a true crime tale crossed with the most delicious of soap opera scenery chewing.
It included a cliffhanger where "Petals on the Wind" immediately picks up. With an undeniable hook going in, the reader has to wonder what will happen next. What is amazing is not so much that Andrews has continued to churn out surprise after surprise, but how her second outing is not structurally the same as what came before. From beginning to end, decades play out and characters experience twists and turns that are even soapier and may be less satisfying. It's at times too self-aware of the legacy it must live up to, but even then leaves questions as to how Andrews thought to continue this journey for several more books. It feels like she burns through the plot so quickly that there's nothing left to say. Even then, "Petals on the Wind" is a novel that gives a fist pump of an ending, playing into the reader's worst tendencies and rewarding their desire for moments driven by big, irrational emotion. It may not be the pristine follow-up Andrews could've written, but it's far from a boring continuation.
When readers last left The Dollanganger children, a few siblings died and those who survived were heading out of town, eager to start life anew. According to the first chapter, central character Cathy wanted to join the circus in Florida. As they board a bus and experience a series of health issues, a stranger takes them into care until they are better. This also starts their life anew with a widowed doctor who clearly wants the best for them, even if it once again plays into Andrews' strange love of predatory behavior. Whereas "Flowers in the Attic" can excuse this behavior thanks to its special circumstance, here it feels like intentional titillation that at times feels more for goofy filler than something substantial. Cathy spends a fair amount of text pondering if she should marry a variety of men including her brother as well as trying to find ways to seek revenge on her mother, who basically put them in this state. Even then, she somehow has maintained a ballerina-type body that makes her a prodigy on the dance circuit and gives her a convenient shift into the adult chapters of the story.
That is essentially the issue with the story. Whereas it could simply follow everything that preceded and focused on the few years after leaving, it shifts into something much more complicated. It's clear that Andrews had an ending in mind (and a great one at that) and was retroactively working how to get there. This involves way too much rumination wrapped up in scandalous moments that don't treat any of the mental illness or dysmorphia seriously enough. This is beyond the pale in the soap department, relying so often on Cathy complaining about trivial problems just to reflect how she can't let go of the past. There's value in exploring said trauma, but it's unclear if Andrews has a PhD big enough to make it brilliantly nuanced. Even then, she sprinkles in enough shockers that the reader can't help but feel compelled to continue reading, to find out what happened to this screwy family.
There are moments that could make it on par with "Flowers in the Attic," but they're few and far between. Her clear love of true crime inspires the most morbid of moments, reflecting an inhumanity that isn't so much about the helplessness of youth, but the reality that adulthood is even more screwed up than The Dollangangers once believed. That is the issue. The novelty fades when Cathy becomes an adult and suddenly has her own agency. Her childish quest for revenge is just that. Whereas everyone else has moved on, Andrews reminds the reader over and over and over and over how much she is holding some deeply repressed ideas. It falls too much into farce and in the process makes the characters feel less exciting as they once were.
With that said, "Petals on the Wind" is a book only Andrews could write and does so with such a sense of guilt for the reader. It forces one to ask what they are attracted to in the text. There is something entertaining in seeing how far the boundaries of decency can be pushed, and they definitely get there a few times. However, the sensibility that drove "Flowers in the Attic" into the sublime category doesn't always exist here. This is an inherently secondary novel down to its self-consciousness, desiring to give her audience more of the same. It's an obvious and reasonable move for a novelist clearly designing her work to be about impulse shock, and thankfully it works just well enough that those who love hot messes will have plenty to get out of this.
In her short legacy, she wrote FIVE books in The Dollanganger series. While they remain a despicably entertaining family after two works, one has to wonder what is achieved over the remaining titles. "Petals on the Wind" feels like a premature work in that it ran through too much plot, not allowing much more room for the characters down the line. It may be a nice bookend for "Flowers in the Attic" in some delusional sense, but as a small piece of a bigger puzzle, it has too much going on and lacks the intimacy and rationality that should elevate it into another great work of trashy fiction. It's good enough and Andrews has a nice little market here, but don't expect a masterpiece. It's all about the big emotion, and so long as the reader doesn't think about them it'll end on such a sweet high note like demented music to one's ears.
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