I love this book so much. It's one of my favorite books of all time. (What are the others? Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl, the Jane Gardam's Bilgewater, Terry Pratchett's Tiffany Aching books, Code Name Verity, and, er, I can't think of the others right now.)
I usually don't teach books I like since they get fingerprints all over them in the form of other people's wrongheaded ideas about things. But this one is so good for The Youth (aka many semesters of college students) that I keep on teaching it anyway. Usually I alternate with Justine Larbalestier's Liar but it's out of print now. Liar is very fun because it makes the youth bonkers trying to figure it out so they're entirely engaged. But they're always totally engaged with this one also. It starts out with Glory fully in crisis, whether she can admit it or not.
This is one of A.S. King's books about getting unstuck. Dig is another one. They're kind of all about that, which isn't a criticism but a praise. Everybody needs to get unstuck one way or another. Everything I write is also about getting unstuck. Well, King is my hero! What do you expect?
Glory is also about depression and dread and the always terrible not talking about huge things in our lives. It's the worst. It's so bad for you. As I'm always shouting at classes: "Say the thing! Just say it! Say it even if you're embarrassed and it comes out wrong and you feel like a dork afterward! It's so good to say the thing!"
For whatever value of "the thing" you need, obviously. Say you like that person and want to hang out. Say you hate it when they touch your french fries. Say you really wanted to like their boyfriend but he creeps you out. Say you borrowed their coat and someone spilled ketchup on it and you'll get it cleaned. Say you're really sorry about that thing you said last week and wish you could take it back. Say you miss them. Say you want to leave. Say you want to stay. SAY THE THING.
This book moves with fabulous speed from people who say nothing and Glory feeling absolutely certain that she doesn't have a future--which means exactly what it sounds like, that she will die, that suicide will somehow come and GET her, like it got her mother when Glory was four--to people learning to say things and Glory discovering that a) things are not as she thinks they are and b) she very much does have a future, thank you very much.
All of this comes about because of a desiccated dead bat that Glory and her friend Elly drink mixed with beer one night. The bat gives them visions and the visions show them things that will come to pass.
This time through the book, we realized as a group that Glory's visions change as she makes changes in her life. That is amazingly cool. And I can't believe I never noticed that before. I've read this book many times. Oh well. Different youth, different insights.
King does not shy away from any of the dark and difficult material you might expect in a book about a girl finally recovering from her mother's suicide by way of visions of the future. Another reason I love to give this book to the youth is because they need to talk about these things. Guaranteed, they know someone who has died by suicide or it has touched their lives in some way. Talking about it makes your risk plummet.
But even if that's not a danger to them, not talking about things definitely is. Not living your life definitely is an enormous danger. Someone stayed after class the last day to tell me how this book changed the course of her future plans. It's such a life-altering book. It's a call to arms. There's a line that Glory finds attached to a slip of paper on a tooth her mother hung over the door to her darkroom, a line I put on the exam, a line every single person got right: "Not living your life is just like killing yourself, only it takes longer."
We tracked some fascinating things through the book. Self-actualization, sure! But also ovens. When I wasn't yelling SAY THE THING I was yelling FOOD IS LOVE. Food is love in this book, where Glory and her father don't have a stove because Glory's mother killed herself by putting her head in the gas oven. There's an empty space in the kitchen where the stove used to be. Hello, you absolutely gorgeous metaphor for life in that house. They don't talk, they don't cook, they don't eat regular food.
As Glory gets better, she starts craving different delicious food. There's one scene where she brings home spicy pad thai and eats it at the kitchen table, looking at the space where the stove used to be. When she meets people, they eat together. When she goes to the commune for a party, the food is terrible and Elly takes it and eats it for Glory, knowing she doesn't like it. Other times, there are calzones and tacos and microwaved cobbler and finally a glorious cake. Food is love!
How do you get unstuck in your life? You have to say things, even to yourself, and you have to make some changes. Glory starts telling Elly when Elly annoys her, for the first time in both of their lives. We talked about how Elly is not psychic and nobody is psychic so if someone is doing something that annoys you, YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM. How else are they going to know? Isn't that amazing? But so many people refuse to say those things. Yes, it's awkward and uncomfortable, but it's better than being annoyed all the time by someone who cannot possibly know they're doing anything wrong.
Another massive theme was taking pictures. Glory's mom, Darla, was a photographer. Glory is a photographer. Darla's darkroom is a locked room in the basement, one of the most beautiful metaphors I've ever seen for a family secret nobody is allowed to talk about. Seriously, nobody has ever talked to Glory about her mother or her suicide. That's so terrible. SAY THE...you know.
Breaking down one barrier at a time, Glory gets through to the crisis in the past, why her mom did what she did, what was wrong, what happened, and how that affects the present, and gradually makes changes that completely alter the lives of everyone in the book. It's just one small step at a time. Ask for the key to Darla's darkroom. Tell the truth. Speak your mind.
Watching Glory go from the shut down depressive at the beginning who takes photographs only of empty things (empty jars, empty chairs, empty bus) to the person who has come to life at the end is absolutely satisfying in so many ways. It's all small steps. None of it is easy. It's terrifying in so many ways. But it's so worthwhile to take those small steps.
It's also incredibly satisfying to see another group of youth connect so well with this book and see it hit home and resonate. I feel like I was given the opportunity to give them a present and this is what I chose. And they loved it.
Also, look what was outside our building on the last day of class. Not sure if it was dead or just sleeping. But oh, what a great thing to see on my last day.
