Twisted (by Laurie Halse Anderson)

After his junior year in high school Tyler Miller goes from your average high school loser to popular guy, even potential dating material for the high school Queen Bee Bethany Milbury. Tyler has gained somewhat of a notorious reputation after the community service he had to perform because he got busted spray-painting graffiti all over the school. Another side effect of this ‘Foul Deed’ as he calls it himself is his newly gained muscled body. If his community service amounted to anything at all, it was proving that digging holes is what he’s really good at, not the AP courses his dad wants him to take. Also, having required said hot bod means  he now gets what he always wanted: he gets noticed. Not just by Bethany, but also by her brother, Chip, who feels challenged in his position of high school king.

Twisted is sometimes called a companion novel to Anderson’s almost legendary novel Speak. While Speak featured the voice of the victim, Twisted shows what happens when people get accused of things because of a certain reputation they have and despite your best efforts you don’t know how to convince them otherwise. Twisted too features a standard high school where the caste system is firmly in place, just like in Speak: the ‘popular posse’ vs the ‘loser nobodys’. When the two mix, you know the consequences will be dire. In this case, everyone’s eye is on Tyler when a dramatic incident supposedly happens to Bethany Milbury.

In Twisted Anderson experiments with a male voice, but I feel this is only successful up to a point. The story of Twisted definitely plays on two different levels: Tyler and the whole Bethany affair on the one hand and Tyler and the relationship with his father at home on the other hand.  But both plotlines are basically about the same thing: power and control. At school, Tyler now has something which he’s always wanted: he has a powerful, maybe even a bit mysterious aura, so much so that Chip, Bethany’s brother feels threatened by it. Obviously he does his utmost to continue humiliating Tyler. Bethany on the other hand sees this power as an alluring factor and does what she does best: she flirts with the hot guy. Now, as two-dimensional as she may seem, there are actual girls out there like Bethany, and the fact that Tyler wanted to do the honorable thing and rejects her just doesn’t play well with the Bethanys of this world.  In the high schools I know, though, a girl like Bethany would never be popular, she’d be the school skank, gossiped about by the girls, and even scorn by the boys for being so easy. Anyway, that’s beside the point. From a narrative point of view, I didn’t really buy the sudden ‘summer change’ in personality in Tyler. From the way his voice sounds (why graffiti the school in the first place if not to get noticed, right?), I can’t believe he was ever such a ‘loser nobody’. Also, Bethany’s brother already hated him before that summer and before Bethany started paying attention, so yet again, this is proof that Tyler wasn’t all that invisible to him.

The other plotline about Tyler and his dad is an intensification of what plays on the other level, and this plotline is definitely the stronger one, one where Tyler’s voice is most effective. Tyler shows restraint when he could abuse his power with Bethany. Tyler’s dad on the other hand feels he’s losing out at his job and wants to maintain a certain level of control and works this out on Tyler and the rest of the family. Just like Chip feels he’s losing control, just like Bethany feels a loss of power when she gets rejected, Tyler’s dad does almost anything to stay on top in his job and at his home life. Tyler consequently feels he’s worth nothing and that he sucks at life.

 

Even if Twisted is not entirely successful, it does have quite a few redeeming qualities, not in the least the exploration of the relationship between the stressed out, controlling father and the son who has different priorities, different interests than what his father has decided for him. When things get going here, it is highly explosive. In a way, Tyler has literally been working up a muscle to stand up to his father, even more so than as a way to ‘impress the girl’. The fact that his father of all people does not believe him when he says he didn’t do what he is accused of makes this a turning point in Tyler’s struggle. Twisted may not be Laurie Halse Anderson at her best, but it’s still pretty good… a story that I think a lot of boys might relate to…even if it’s only secretly so.

Drowning Instinct (by Ilsa J. Bick)

Ilsa J. Bick’s Drowning Instinct is the second Printz contender the cat has read in as many weeks. Drowning Instinct, though, is a whole different ballgame than Paolo Bacigalupi’s The Drowned Cities. However, the voice of its protagonist/narrator is as powerful as the reach of Bacigalupi’s (geo)political ambitions (BTW, ‘drowning’ seems to be a keyword these days). Drowning Instinct is contemporary YA at its best. It’s set very much in the tradition set by a someone like Laurie Halse Anderson, introducing us to stories that are thoroughly character-driven, and delving into the deepest human emotions possible, wherever that may take you.

The book starts when Jenna Lord, 16, is dragged out of the water and Detective Pendleton (‘Bob’) gives her a tape recorder so she can give him her story… the truth, the truth, and nothing but the truth. Of course, that truth is an ugly one. At 16 Jenna is already deeply scarred, figuratively as well as literally. She’s just returned from an extended stay in a psychiatric hospital, courtesy of her cutting, a fire and a dysfunctional family life or all of that combined. She now has to attend Turing, because her emotionally demanding father (aka PsychoDad), insists this will be the best way to adjust to normal life again. This is where she meets Mr Anderson, who she claims is the way her story of the truth should start.

There are a couple of things that make of Drowning Instinct a captivating and thoroughly twisted read. First of all,  there’s the device of the unreliable narrator, used here in the best way possible. Jenna insists that in the complicated relationship between her (a student) and Mr Anderson (a teacher), she was not a victim…which is of course the first thing that pervy Bobby-o (Jenna’s words) would think of. And indeed to a certain extent (and up until the big reveal, which I’m not going to reveal!) we see that both characters are thoroughly messed up, and both need each other to fix them back to normal. On the other hand, there are a couple of things our unreliable narrator Jenna omits. For one, I don’t really recall Jenna actually mentioning Mr Anderson’s age… which of course, shouldn’t matter when we’re dealing with a student-teacher relationship, but my point is, Mr Anderson could be 24 (Jenna says he attended Stanford), he could be 30 or he could be 40. When someone of about 24 is in a relationship with someone who’s 36, no one thinks twice about this. But when one of the two is a minor – even ‘already’ 16 – and the other is an adult – even ‘only’ 24 – then things get complicated of course. I’m not saying that one is right and the other is wrong, but it’s the same sort of dynamic that plays all through the novel. The same is true when the relationship gets physical. Narrator Jenna careful skirts over that, because she feels it’s none of ‘Bob’s’ business. Who’s predator, who’s prey? Does Jenna find out, will the reader find out? It’s just such a thrill to see what (if anything) will be revealed by the (un)reliable narrator.

Also, the characters – and it’s not just the protagonists Jenna and Mr Anderson – in Drowning Instinct are of the type the cat loves best: they are complex, they’re messed up, there is never only a right or only a wrong, there are so many shades of gray here that it’s almost an expressionist landscape of pain, cuts, emotions added onto the canvas layer upon layer. Of course, Jenna only tells us what she wants to tell us about the other characters, but I liked the way Matt (Jenna’s brother who’s deployed in Afghanistan) and Danielle’s characters were used in the book, showing us that there are more broken people that just Jenna and Mr Anderson.

Lastly, there’s Ilsa J. Bick’s use of setting and space. The Wisconsin woods in which Jenna starts to run again is used so effectively that it’s almost a metaphor for the density of emotions that Jenna ànd Mr Anderson are dealing with. This is something which I also noticed in Ashes, where the woods are also almost a character of their own. Again, the mood of much of the book is enhanced by the setting, and this setting definitely has some filmic overtones. This really is how an author should use space to really show and to add meaning to the words on a page.

The cat loved Drowning Instinct, but she doesn’t think it will win the Printz. Is it good (“literary”) enough to win it? Probably (narrative voice, setting and pacing are stellar), but I don’t really know whether the Printz Committee would go for this particular topic right at this moment in time. I do think it’s Printz Honors material for sure.  Readers who liked Barry Lyga’s Boy Toy will find an equally as uncomfortable read in Drowning Instinct. There’s something about broken and flawed characters that make them so irresistible to read about, maybe because they make us feel less flawed, or maybe because we recognize ourselves in part of who they are. Either way, contemporary YA at its best, peeps. Read Drowning Instinct!

Forge (by Laurie Halse Anderson)

Laurie Halse Anderson set the standards very high for herself with Chains, the first installment of the Seeds of America trilogy. In Chains we encountered Isabel, a New York slave at the beginning of the American Revolution, and her personal – desperate – need to be free against the backdrop of a nation’s quest for freedom from a foreign oppressor, the very same setting that also M.T. Anderson used in his majestic Octavian Nothing books, by the way. Chains’ sequel Forge – though not really focusing on Isabel, and definitely not another scientific experiment – is another proof of what a literary giant Laurie Halse Anderson really is in the realm of historical fiction in general, and the YA-universe in particular.

The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, Vol. 1: The Pox Party (by M.T. Anderson)

In Bookland, there’s nothing as satisfactory as picking up a book with no prior knowledge or expectations regarding its plot or style, and being completely dazzled by the entire experience once you’re through it. Such was the case with M.T. Anderson’s The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Vol. 1. M.T. Anderson gained some notoriety after publishing (the sadly not readily available on Amazon)  Feed, a YA cyberpunk novel and a National Book Award Finalist, but I’m sure there weren’t too many people who saw this one coming!

Red Tears (by Joanna Kenrick)

OK, I guess it’s something to get through… the teen self-harming books. I mean, I don’t want to belittle self-harmers or anything, but writing a book about a sensitive topic like self-harm is just not an easy thing to do. If you are called Laurie Halse Anderson you can pull it off  and you have found a way for your writing to surpass the mere teenage “my life sucks and I have so many issues to deal with and I can’t cope so please notice me” complaint fiction. Seriously, I’m not belittling self-harmers, but I’m questioning Joanna Kenrick’s ability to stay critical towards her writing subject.

In Red Tears, we meet Emily Bowyer, 15 and from a loving family. She has a couple of close friends and is academically successful. So what’s the big deal, right? You know, those of any “ordinary” teenager: GCSEs and the stress of it all. She basically has to find a way to balance her  friends (they dump her), schoolwork (she can’t keep up) and family (the pressure is on!). And she finds a way to deal with all these issues by cutting herself. What follows is apparently an insight into the mind of a self-harmer. The introduction shows that Kenrick did a lot of research about her topic, and apparently much of it in self-harmers’ online support groups (you should see some of the rave reviews these teens give the book). Anyway,… Emily’s character is intended to be believable (“this is what happens to all of us self-harmers”), but at the same time it should be able to show that this is something that can happen to anyone (careful, Emily was completely ‘normal’ too!).  Kenrick is obviously very sympathetic with her topic and her main character, but for me, this is exactly what makes it all so…well, stereotypical, and samey. For me, this book doesn’t stand out from the crowd and there is very little to lift this novel out of the teenage pit of doom and despair.

Why is that? No idea, really. You could say that it’s because we basically have only Emily’s point of view and she tends to be well, depressed…but then, why is Speak such a powerful novel? Here we also only have Melinda’s mind and she doesn’t even speak!  Is it because of the very rushed ending (no, not a happy ending and no, not a sad ending but you know, something in between, as it should be…).  We spend 95% of the pages on Emily’s self-harm and then the ‘solution’ the book offers is just too rushed. In a matter of a few pages Emily comes to the insight that yes, it’ll be hard to stop cutting but at least after all she’s gone through, and with the right guidance, she has it in her to get better… Or is it again because I have so little in common with the topic at hand? Then, why did Wintergirls make such an incredible impression on me?

Is Red Tears a good book for self-harmers? Hell, what do I know. Kenrick does warn them in the beginning that there are some scenes that might be hard for them to take and that might trigger their errr..urges, so if you’re a self-harmer, put away your blades! Is this is a good book to get an insight into self-harmers? Probably, I mean, Emily’s character is well-developed (oh and Kenrick even makes publicity for teacher packs so it’s all very responsible and everything ). Is this a good piece of literary fiction? Nah, not so much. The line between ‘complaint’ fiction and ‘critical’ fiction really is very fine. At least that is something Red Tears proves.