Tag Archives: book review

John Hughes Didn’t Invent the American High School Experience

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Those of us in the Gen X cohort—and probably the Millennial cohort too—grew up with John Hughes movies.

The thing people younger than that potentially don’t understand is that John Hughes didn’t invent class and social struggle in the American public high school. He reflected it.

One of the reasons movies like Some Kind of Wonderful, Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink, and, of course, The Breakfast Club resonated so much with us is because they were true.

Now, they were exaggerated, to a certain degree. Or maybe they weren’t.

No matter how old I am, when I watch Bender’s monologue—“stupid, worthless, no-good…”—and his honest, authentic rage about what happens at his house, most of my cohort is like, “Yeah. I believe that.”

Even if those specific things weren’t said or done to us personally, the sensation of it—the abuse, the neglect, all of it—felt real. And we probably knew someone for whom it was true. I laugh at “Wanna know what I got for Christmas this year? It was a better fuckin’ year at the old Bender family. I got a carton of cigarettes.” This was a real thing for one of my friends.

That’s why we loved those movies. When we saw one of the characters dealing with people of a different alleged social class putting them down in some way, people of my generation were like, “Yeah. That’s how it goes.”

I don’t want to speak for our entire cohort, but I think that’s why a lot of us still love those movies now. (Problematic now? Yes. But that’s a different conversation.)

Things Have Changed

In the intervening years, things have changed quite a bit.

I hope things have changed a lot.

I started seeing it when I became an author and began doing school visits, specifically as a young adult author. I was visiting a lot of high schools, and I could already see differences.

I remember going to a high school football game about fifteen years ago, and the quarterback was also the valedictorian.

Where I come from—I don’t know whether this was true for you, but it was true at my school, in my area, in my era—that was unheard of.

You could be the quarterback or be on a team. You could be smart and get good grades. Or you could be into Dungeons & Dragons, theater, chess, band, or whatever your nerdy thing was. But you cannot be both.

I imagine every school had its own social stratifications. A lot of this depends on what part of the country you were in and what your immediate local community was like.

But a quarterback who was also the valedictorian?

Not where I came from. This is a good change.

We Still Wear the Uniforms

Look, if you’re thirty, forty, fifty, sixty years old and you’re still wearing Vans? Bro. You’re probably not skating tonight.

(Okay, some of you may be.)

But the majority of us who still wear Vans probably aren’t hitting a half-pipe anytime soon. Or, if we are, it’s because we’re hitting it with our face and breaking a hip.

So why the hell do we still wear Vans?

Well, first of all, because they’re badass…

But they’re badass because Vans has spent decades cultivating a very specific image and a very specific brand that speaks to us. We want to be associated with that.

One of my prized possessions is a pair of black Vans with the Social Distortion Skelly logo on the side.

I fucking love those shoes, man.

And I want people who see me wearing them to go, “Oh!” and make judgments about me. For good or for ill.

That is the point.

The People Who Never Scared Me

I would genuinely love to hear feedback about this, because I’m sure it’s different for everybody:

I don’t remember ever being accosted by somebody wearing a Nine Inch Nails shirt. Or a Bauhaus shirt. Or fucking Vans, for that matter.

You know what I’m saying?

I don’t remember ever being accosted, assaulted, or made to feel less than by somebody with crazy-colored hair.

Never.

Why? Well, that’s a topic for another time.

I’m just saying that has been my life experience.

Those are also the kids—and the adults—I write about a lot.

I don’t know what the different social levels, categories, or whatever you want to call them are these days in your local American high school. I think they’re different from when I was there.

My kid, for example, is turning into a complete jock. He’s a football player, which shocks the hell out of me.

He also plays D&D.

That was not going to happen in the ’80s and ’90s. Not going to happen.

And that’s cool. I’m so glad to see it.

53rd & 3rd

This book I have coming soon is called 53rd & 3rd, based on the Ramones song.

(It is not about New York. It is not about prostitution. There are just a lot of Ramones references in the story, for reasons you’ll see when you read it.)

53rd & 3rd is a breakdown of “those kids” I grew up with—the kids who, I think, still exist in the American landscape.

It’s about how they respond when someone who allegedly doesn’t belong starts to infiltrate their group.

Like many of my novels, it takes place over the course of just one night, because, in my experience, that’s when the big things happen.

It’s that one phone call, right? That one email. That one text that upends your whole world.

So the book takes place over one night, on one corner, with one group of kids who are all suffering from a collective trauma they experienced in another book I wrote called Mercy Rule.

53rd a companion to Mercy Rule, but not really a sequel.

It’s about these outsider kids—or whatever you want to call them, the kids I was happy to be associated with as a teenager—and what happens when their group gets invaded.

Or so they think. They think it’s an invasion.

It’s a story about being one of Those Kids and if we’re all as open-armed as we think or thought ourselves to be. I know I struggle with that, still. But the kids in this novel still get it right by the time the sun comes up on their little corner of the city.

And that’s the stuff I love to write about. Going through hell together, and coming out the other side together.

Because Those Kids with the crazy color in their hair and their Docs and their leather jackets are why I’m here today.

Remember who you were. Those Kids have a lot to teach us.

How about you? What’s your story of Those Kids?

~ Tom

Fear Street: The Wrong Number

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The Wrong Number (1990) is not a horror novel so much as it is a thriller. It’s definitely a product of its time with the central conceit being about making crank phone calls on landlines.

One refreshing thing about this Fear Street book in particular is that there is no big twist. For the most part, what you see is what you get. That seems a far cry from the author who made his bones writing quick snappy middle-grade horror stories with a twist at the end.

Fear Street is definitely still for older kids, although to be frank, they are so dated at this point that younger kids might well enjoy them. (This is now officially “historical fiction.”) Then again, I don’t know if the stories are engaging enough for younger readers. As always it depends on the reader.

The Wrong Number is no more or less fun than any of the other Fear Street novels, which earns it three stars. It’s serviceable as a good YA thriller, and my biggest complaint is that while the main characters do show agency, which is nice to see, ultimately, they are not saved by any action that they take. I think if we were to see a rewrite set in modern times, the main characters would definitely save themselves.

Or, given the cynicism of our time, maybe they would just fail outright. That fear is what makes reading these old paperbacks so great, though: they take us back to a time when being scared was fun instead of a low-grade factor of everyday life. The Fear Street series still serves to give us an escape, and for that, I salute it.

 

Want to build up your catalogue of nostalgic pulp fiction?

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The Wrong Number

Castaways by Brian Keene

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If you never want to read a horror novel, stop reading here. If you’re open to reading horror but unsure where to begin, message me; I’ll send you a list.

Because CASTAWAYS by Brian Keene is not for the faint of heart, nor is it an introduction to the genre. For that, there are plenty of other options. Keene knows his audience, and his audience knows who they are. If you’re not sure, you’re not part of it.

At first I wanted to lambast Keene for writing unlikeable characters, which made it hard to get into the story. Then about a quarter of the way in, I realized it’s not his fault: the setting all but demands unlikeability from its cast. The types of people (that we see on the surface) attracted to being on reality shows like Keene’s semi-fictional “Castaways” survivor-style show are exactly the type with whom Keene fills his book. Nearly all are utterly unlikeable, and I found myself anticipating the villains coming after them with great relish.

Once the reader can accept this not-so-secret desire to see the cast get theirs, CASTAWAYS gets a lot more fun. It’s a horrifying scenario and one that rings of distinct possibility. As an author, to me this book epitomizes that “What if?” question that has kicked off so many stories, horror or otherwise.

And this is horror, make no mistake. It’s bloody, it’s gory, it’s foul, it’s violent.

If that makes you perk up, then this novel is for you.

Keene understands jerks. Most of the book is populated with them. These are exactly the kind of people you’d expect to meet under the circumstances they are in. That said, there are a few redemptive changes over the course of the story, which keeps the arc moving and prevents the novel from being the literary equivelant of torture porn (though the story does share a lot in common with the genre. You’ve been warned).

To a certain degree, CASTAWAYS is a slasher film disguised as a monster movie. The monsters are still effective; they just operate more functionally like a Jason or a Michael, albeit with a different motivation. There is nothing supernatural in the book, which creates part of it’s terror.

This is, and I cannot underscore this enough, a BRUTAL book.

I wouldn’t recommend the book to non-horror readers looking to dip a toe in the genre. This novel is for the already-committed fans. Viewed through that lens, CASTAWAYS excels at what it sets out to do.

 

Grab the Kindle edition here. This is an affiliate link.
Brian Keene Castaways

Book Review: ARARAT, by Christopher Golden

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tl;dr? watch here instead

Christopher Golden has constructed a place you never want to go but that you cannot stop reading about.

The novel Ararat takes place on the mountain of the same name, where Noah’s Ark is reputed to have come to rest. That’s exactly what the novel seems to be about, when an earthquake unearths what appears to be remnants of a giant ship. But when scientists ascend the mountain to study the discovery, they quickly find that there’s something in there that should not be. Whether it’s Noah’s ark at all becomes secondary to survival as the team squares off with a chilling and brutal entity that will feed off the reader’s worst fears!

As a horror writer, I have many different tools available to scare you. One of those tools is dread, which is not the same as horror, terror, or the gross-out. Dread is a tough one to do, because it requires patience and precise words and pacing. Golden has done that here. He doesn’t hide his monster, it’s in plain sight the entire story, yet the dread just builds and builds until you are forced to stay up long after dark, reading to see when things will finally burst.

The author and I were both nominated for the Bram Stoker Award the same year in different categories, and Ararat won that year. I have not met Christopher Golden, but I have met Joe Hill and other horror authors who speak highly of him and there’s no question he’s at the top of his game when it comes to dread. So whether you are a reader who loves horror novels or a writer who’s looking to sharpen that particular tool in your toolbox, I highly recommend reading this Bram Stoker Award winner.

Book Review: BUTTER, by Erin Jade Lange

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tl;dr? watch instead here

 

“Butter” is the name of a high school boy who once, allegedly, ate an entire stick of butter. That’s not the entire story, of course, but we may not even learn Butter’s actual name until after he eats himself to death live on the internet in a bid to not only take his own life but achieve total internet fame.

Author Erin Jade Lange has crafted an all too realistic portrait of “influencer” culture and the impact it can have on lives on both sides of a computer screen. Butter himself, the main character, is dangerously overweight, so much so that his literal life may be in jeopardy even before he decides to commit suicide and broadcast his death to his local high school. The problem is, once his intentions get out, Butter becomes the opposite of everything he’s ever been: cool, desired, and talked about. But his popularity is predicated on the idea that he’s going to kill himself, so the book dives deep into asking its readers, just as its main character does: what price is too high to pay to be quote-unquote “popular”?

Now, be warned – Butter is not an entirely likable character when we first meet him, and in fact he makes a dozen choices over the course of the novel that may not endear him to readers. But that’s exactly the thing about great contemporary young adult literature – a willingness to show protagonists with all their flaws. These characters last so much longer in the imagination and compel much greater discussion.

Butter is a great read for schools and families needing to open some doors about popularity and using the internet, although it definitely not for most readers under the age of about 12. But it is fantastically written with a very realistic protagonist who inhabits a space all of us do when we’re sixteen: how the hell did I get into this mess and how the hell am I going to get out of it?