This year, Calvin College will be playing host to hundreds of book nerds for the Festival of Faith and Writing 2012. I am rather excited (and already enjoying a little pre-stress stress), as the Festival will play bookends to my literary career at Calvin. For my DCM (Developing a Christian Mind) January class required by Calvin, I took the Festival of Faith and Writing class with Professor Debra Rienstra, a lovely woman.
It opened my eyes. Now, I was already considering an English major at that point. Because, you know, I love books and stuff. Somehow that revelation took a while to sink in. Anyhow, Professor Rienstra's class quashed any doubts I could've had left at that point. For the first time, I was taking part in a conversation about faith and literature, and censorship was considered part of the problem, not the solution.
It's kind of scary now to think about how mind blowing these conversations were. But I digress.
So the FFW DCM was my introduction to the philosophy of the Calvin College English Department. And now, as a senior, I am a member of the FFW student committee. I will be hosting two authors: Carey Wallace, author of
The Blind Contessa's New Machine, a historical fiction novel about the invention of one of the earliest typewriters; and Tony Earley, author of
Jim the Boy, set in Depression-era North Carolina.
To give you a taste of the Festival, I present my review of
Jim the Boy, written for my Senior Seminar class.
For this edition of
Alicia Reads Books, I chose
Jim the Boy, a young adult novel by Tony Earley. I have picked up YA novels only recently, (
Harry Potter, His Dark Materials, and, sadly,
Twilight excepted), so my familiarity with the genre is limited. In my defense, Young Adult fiction as its own category is a new concept. Writing and marketing books specifically for the nebulous tween/teen age group is in its infancy. It has exploded into sub-categories, notably including “Paranormal Romance,” “Supernatural Thrillers,” and “Edgy Stories.” Judging by the YA bestsellers, thrilling, highly dramatized narratives are the most popular, ranging in subjects from vampire-filled high schools to the precocious conniving of the titular
Pretty Little Liars. While some of these books merit their popularity with interesting concepts like a post-apocalyptic, gladiator-like Arena or an adolescent criminal mastermind who turns to magic to meet his ends, others rely on pure scandal, intrigue, or whatever passes for “edginess.” But with
Jim the Boy, Earley does something completely different, harkening back to older qualities of YA fiction like
Charlotte’s Web or
The Bridge to Terabithia. Jim the Boy is a moment of tranquility amongst a multitude of Picaresque narratives, and well worth the time of readers of all ages.
Earley was raised in North Carolina, and like his debut book, a collection of short stories,
Jim the Boy is set there. Jim Glass, a ten-year-old boy, lives in the fictional, rather sleepy town of Aliceville, North Carolina. It is 1934, and the United States was in the Depression. Having lived in the South myself, I was interested to see how the environment inspired Earley’s narrative. As it’s novel set not only in the rural, post-bellum South but also during the Depression, I expected
Jim the Boy to be marked by great sadness and tragedy, the usual sort of bildungsroman material. But what I found was something else entirely.
Jim’s great tragedy happens long before the book begins; in fact, it happens before he is even born. His father, also named Jim Glass, dies of a heart condition while working in the fields, leaving his mother to give birth to and raise Jim as a single mother. But she isn’t entirely alone: her three brothers Zeno, Coran, and Al live in houses nearby. They not only financially support her and Jim, but they also jointly take on the role of Jim’s father. It is an unconventional family, but a warm and loving one; Jim never wants for love, support, and, markedly, moral education.
The book begins with Jim’s tenth birthday. He decides that he wants to work in the cornfields with his uncles and the farmhands. When Jim accidently cuts a stalk of corn, he buries it in hopes of hiding his mistake. His uncle Zeno discovers the cover up, and confronts his nephew. Jim feigns ignorance, but his uncle isn’t fooled. There is no punishment, just a simple lesson. “’Jim, this was a mistake until you tried to hide it,” he said. “But when you tried to hide it, you made it a lie’” (22). Jim, who loves and looks up to his uncles, is overcome with guilt. It is a simple lesson, one that all children learn, and Earley’s Uncle Zeno handles it with the grace of a loving parent. These small lessons continue through the book; instead of big mistakes and even bigger consequences, Jim’s growth as a character is slow and steady, much the same as any real ten-year-old.
This lack of high drama is the narrative’s greatest strength. Earley replaces the usual YA drama with clean, simple prose. One of the pivotal scenes in the novel, when Jim leaves Aliceville for the first time with Uncle Al to buy new horses for the farm, is treated with straightforward language that only enhances its beauty. That beauty is so striking, in fact, that I can’t help but quote the scene in its entirety:
“Two thoughts came to Jim at once, joined by a thread of amazement: he thought, People live here, and he thought, They don’t know who I am. At that moment, the world opened up around Jim like hands that, until that moment, had been cupped around him; he felt very small, almost invisible, in the open air of their center, but knew that the hands would not let him go,” (53).
This narrative voice makes reading Jim the Boy like taking a breath of fresh air. It is completely uncomplicated by any sort of affectation. As I read, the words and the pages seemed to slip away, and I finished large portions without realizing how much I had absorbed. It mirrored my experience reading two other Festival writers, Marilynne Robinson and Gary Schmidt.
However, I found that the expectations I brought to the narrative, fed by current fads in Young Adult fiction and a quick read of the potentially bleak synopsis, nearly ruined my experience. I found myself waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. I held my breath for the big adventure, for something big to throw the quiet story upside-down. For the first half of the book, I kept putting it down, unable to explain my vague sense of dissatisfaction. But then I realized: that was it. And I finally exhaled.
I do not usually “go” for the quiet books. While I enjoy the clean prose of Marilyn Robinson’s Gilead or the understated sadness of Gary Schmidt’s Okay for Now, I read those books only within the past three years. I still have yet to get used to the idea of a narrative that is more of a steady heartbeat than a shock of adrenaline. My first instinct is to expect the unexpected, to be on the edge of my seat (or rather, the page) until the author delivers the great twist or the epic battle. I have to fight that first instinct. For Jim, it took longer than usual, because everything, at least superficially, points to great drama. Hence my being halfway through the narrative before I finally realized that Earley was not going to surprise me with a gimmick.
Once I had gotten past my own presuppositions, I enjoyed the novel immensely. I could share in Jim’s jealousies and fears, because they are what all children experience in some fashion: the shame of being caught in a lie, the desire to look cool, and the realization that the world is a big place. I could understand the heartbreaking decision of Jim’s mother not to remarry, because her abiding love for the husband taken too soon is the simple, deep emotion I see in the relationships of people around me. The love and humor of Jim’s uncles reminded me of my own family, of that camaraderie that only comes from the close ties of love and blood. Earley didn’t need any dramatics to sell his plot: his simple, everyday characters did that for him.
Even though Jim the Boy is technically Young Adult, it is one I would recommend to those above that age group as well. I do not lightly name it “Gilead for Young Adults.” For too long, authors pandering to fads and theatrics have ruled that genre, creating an imbalance in selection, but simplicity and contentment have not been lost. Jim the Boy, like The Wednesday Wars or Charlotte’s Web, brings the beauty of quiet stories back, and deserves to be on anyone’s reading list.
