One more rainy season and the roof of Lakshmi's house will be gone. Such a simple thing, a simple need, but one that seems impossible for her family. A tin roof would mean that she has a stepfather who doesn't gamble, or a brother who works in the city; a tin roof would mean that when the rains came, the house would stay dry and the baby would stay healthy. None of that will happen because she has no brother and she has a stepfather who sells her carefully-tended cucumbers for cigarettes and rice beer. When a monsoon destroys the roof and washes away the crops, the thirteen-year-old girl is sent to India, ostensibly to work as a maid. When she arrives at Happiness House, her dreams of helping her family turn to horror and despair when she realizes she has been sold into prostitution.Lakshmi tries to resist, but is beaten and starved until she submits: "I know this noise from somewhere./ I work very hard to make it out./ Finally, I congratulate myself for identifying it./ It is the muffled sound of sobbing./ Habib rolls off me./ Then I understand: I was the person crying." She slowly forms friendships with other girls at Happiness House, where the only respite comes from a TV set and daily visits from the tea man. Lakshmi never buys tea--she hopes to save enough rupees to pay Mumtaz, the owner of the brothel. "30 rupees./That is the price of a bottle of Coca-Cola at Bajai Siti's store./ That is what he paid for me." She meticulously keeps a hidden record of transactions, figuring out how much she has to pay for her freedom, but discovers that she will never leave, since Mumtaz charges interest: "I do the calculations./ And realize I am already buried alive."
Patricia McCormick tells this harrowing story of sexual slavery in spare prose and blank verse. The story is saved from utter bleakness by her luminous writing: "There is a moment, between the light and the dark, when the smell of frying onions blows in through the windows. All over the city, the cooking hour has begun. This is the saddest smell in the world because it means that here at Mumtaz's house the men will start to arrive." In a culture where "a girl is like a goat. Good as long as she gives you milk and butter. But not worth crying over when it's time to make stew," Lakshmi comes to realizes her worth, and courage defeats despair. Sold is an outstanding novel, and while this NBA Finalist was written as a YA, it would be a fine addition to adult bookshelves.--Marilyn Dahl