A Lot of Truth in Sherman Alexie's The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

I recently read Sherman Alexie’s newest novel, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian and fell in love with it. It shares similarities with The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, but rather than being a series of interconnected short stories, The Absolutely True Diary maintains a clear storyline. In the novel, Junior—or Arnold Spirit, Jr.—tells the story of the decision he makes to leave the reservation. It isn't an easy decision, but after he discovers that the math book he receives the first day of class was the very same one that his mother used 30 years ago, he decides he has to leave. Notably, he throws the book and hits his math teacher (not exactly an intentional aim) and breaks his nose. But the math teacher, Mr. P, understands. In fact, Mr. P tells him “the only thing you kids are being taught is how to give up.” So, with his teacher's encouragement, Junior begins attending Reardan High School, which is 22 miles away and where the town is “filled with farmers and rednecks and racist cops who stops every Indian that drives through.” That just has to be a really happy place for Junior. Some people won’t like this book. They won't like the frank discussions about alcohol and alcoholism. However, in an interview with NPR, Alexie explains that the novel is semiautobiographical, and that was just part of his life on the reservation. Other people might not like to acknowledge that Junior thinks about sex. And they might be dismayed that people--and dogs--die. But this book, more than any I’ve read for a long time, affected me deeply. It’s poignant, sad, funny, provocative, and thoughtful. And really, that’s all I want in a book.

An NPR interview with Alexie is located at http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=14586575

Pill Boy Tells What Happened

I have lots of nightmares: about tornadoes, plane crashes, discovering that I forgot to attend a class all semester long and then suddenly remembering it on finals day. And I had a dream about being in a car accident; it was my fault. That was bad enough, but then in that dream I left the scene. My relief was profound when I awoke to find it was only a dream. I suppose that’s why I found What Happened so gripping and engaging. Author Peter Johnson gets it right because Pill Boy, the otherwise unnamed narrator, finds himself trapped by indecision, by bad decisions, and by fear. The circumstances are nightmarish.

I read a lot of novels marketed for readers between 12 and 18 years. I also use them in my college classes. I look for books where the authors respect their readers. Johnson gets that right as well. But what exactly does that mean? For one, “Pill Boy” is a complex character. He’s smart and observant. His impressions of the world are nuanced: nothing is black and white; little can be answered with a straightforward yes or no. And he thinks about the things around him. He understands “that the inexplicable [is] indeed inexplicable.” In a world where people search for certainty and are often lead to believe that certainty is just around the corner, this character discovers the illusion. How does one deal with that? Sometimes they self-medicate as Pill Boy does. And sometimes they look to philosophers or think about the Great Chain of Being. Pill Boy does that as well. Ultimately, he has depth. Johnson’s narrator makes mistakes, and he is afraid of the consequences of making things right. He’s also afraid of not making them right. That’s what makes him such an interesting character and one that compelled me to find out how he would handle his nightmare.

According to the book jacket, this is an “impressionistic and fragmented account.” Yes. It is. It’s a mixture of reality, of dreams, and of alternative realities. And that’s were Johnson again demonstrates his respect for his readers. He is poetic in his approach and doesn’t rush their lives. While plot is important, character development is paramount. Take, for instance, the following passage where he describes his mother:

After my mother died, I stopped believing in anything for a while. I was the last to be told about her illness, though I should have seen it in her sunken cheeks, her smell, something like the odor when you unwrap a dead pig in biology class and begin to cut. She would sit at the kitchen table, helping me with math, while the cancer had its way with her, offering us just enough hope to make her seem noble and heroic.

He remembers her with such poignant deliberation. Johnson lets his character contemplate his circumstances and the world, and for Pill Boy, the world isn’t always—strike that—is seldom pleasant.

I’ve heard enough adults judge a book “too difficult” or “too confusing” for readers of a particular age. I don't buy it. Those same adults might be tempted to characterize this as one of those books. I think they'd be wrong. The teenagers I encounter are smart. Scary smart. Some of them are like Pill Boy. The teenagers I know also have varied reading habits. One day they might read Harry Potter and the next day they’re reading Crime and Punishment (and actually enjoying it). If I were a psychiatrist, I might think those adults were projecting their own fears and uncertainties on the teenagers around them. But I’m not a psychiatrist, so I won’t say that.

What Happened is the story of how a troubled boy sorts out his life. And it’s an incident I would never want to live through. Bad enough dreaming about it.