Entry tags:

books, let's get literate! 2009

This is a (slightly modified) version of a review I did for a podcast, because the podcast version was TERRIBLE WRITING and I am mortified it exists on the internet anywhere, even in audio form and I'm REALLY glad my audio input no longer works so I cannot inflict myself on ears around the world ever, ever, ever again. Internets, I am so sorry. Please forgive me; I will never commit such an atrocity again! /o\

My feelings about this book have changed a little since I read it. I appreciate more the fact that the romance is interracial and it's not a big fucking deal. It's just there and it's not a problem, it's just who the character is—and that's positive and kindhearted and compassionate. The other feeling is less than complementary, though. This book is too quiet, where all the emotions are a little distant, a little muted, and therefore at times emotionally inaccessible to the reader. Upon reflection I would love to see Wilson work in settings with more oomph, dig a little deeper—but in other stories. This was supposed to be a gentle story, though, and while gentle has its place, for those of us used to the rough tumble of GLBTQ YA in its current form, and sudden intake of breath at a situation in a story that completely tips the reader over into the world and into that character's place, this story didn't do that much, if at all. I can't judge it harshly because I'm not the person who might need this book, the quiet discovery of happiness after misery this story provides amid a riotous life of confusion and societal peril. I'm not that person—but I'm sure they exist. I hope they find this book; it deserves to be found.

What They Always Tell Us is intertwined story of Alex and James, two brothers living in suburban Alabama, only a few states over from me. I don't read many books set in the Deep South because often they ring false. For instance, when the author decides it's TOTALLY AWESOME to drop every G and add an apostrophe on all the -ing words available for convincing twang. To be quite honest, I am not B.F.F with authors who do this. What They Always Tell Us doesn't pull that rabbit out of its hat. Instead, it uses social cues and Alex's own journey, the people he meets and interacts with and the choices he makes to code the location. The culture of the South is still there, minus the horrible murder of thousands of apostrophes.

The story explores how Alex and James drifted apart and how through a series of what seems like normal, everyday events, they come back together again as brothers. There are coming of age and coming out threads, but I was happy the coming out threads didn't overpower the story. The novel opens with Alex at home while his parents are out of town for a wedding. His brother is at a hotel for a long weekend with his girlfriend. Alex sets a bottle of cleaning liquid on the counter. Sound weird? As the narrative winds up, we learn that Alex has had first hand experience that cleaning liquids don't taste so hot complete with a stay in the hospital. Why the suicide attempt? Wilson handled the reasons and motivation behind Alex's testing of his mortality with quite a bit of subtly. I came away from this story flat out amazed at the gentle way the reader is introduced to the problems Alex had, why he had them and how he resolves them.

When the story begins, Alex has already undergone a drastic emotional change. We watch him recover by fostering a friendship with a lonely 10-year-old neighbor, Henry, whom Alex can understand all too well. The reasons for this were never stated outright, but Alex dances around why I believe the age difference didn't matter to their friendship. Henry was the most charming 10-year-old I have met in my literary adventures in awhile. Also Nathen, one of his brother's friends pulls him in by surprise and they start running together. Nathen is on the cross country team and very slowly, we get to see Alex flourish as he runs and leans more and more on Nathen's friendship.

The older brother, James, whom I expected to dislike on reading his first section, was very surprising. His story opens as he breaks up with a girl in a pretty nasty way. I was always rooting for Alex, but James had to grow on me a little. Part of it is that Alex seems so wounded from the start, while James seems more self-possessed. The beauty of the writing is that the front James puts up worked on me for quite awhile. He goes through his own upheavals concerning college and his future and his realizations about the world around him. Both Alex and James learn the same lessons about friends and family in completely different ways. The undertones in this novel: Alex's depression and his friends ostracizing him, James's feelings toward his friends as well as the people who used to call Alex friend, both of their confusion—it rings true and touching.

However, the story is told very accurate male voice—the sexism is flung around in the dialogue like sharp knives—although I think this only lends to the validity of the narrative and the setting. Just a warning, though: some of the language about women can and will reach out and jab you. The South itself is very MALE POWER with respecting women as they continue to degrade them and if my rising blood pressure after I read some of the lines in the book is any indication, it catches the attitudes of a lot of young men in the south. It's problematic, but true to life. While this book is only going to find its way into the the hands of many straight male athletes in my wildest dreams, I do have hopes it will find its way to the quiet boys I used to have in my classes, heads down and shoulder steeled against the world, the ones who took all their anger and rage out on whatever ball or bat or racket they could get their hands on. I think it's a perfect for anyone who has ever felt alone in the big, wide world.