| The Afterlife | ||||||
| Gary Soto | ||||||
| Harcourt, 168 pages | ||||||
|
Trent Walters
Chuy is an average kid -- average-looking and average at athletics -- from the poorer district of L.A. He plays basketball but
only plays when their team is way ahead or way behind. We meet him in the restroom of Club Estrella, spiffing up for his
date. Chuy tells a stranger in yellow shoes that Chuy likes the shoes. The guy doesn't much care for the remark. So he stabs
Chuy, and Chuy dies.
Chuy is now a ghost slowly disappearing and is tossed by the wind. The latter becomes an important issue structurally, though not
at first. Chuy is learning what has happened to him and who he now is and what he can now do as a ghost. This is what
distinguishes Soto's novel from that of Sebold's. Chuy is curious about the afterlife and explores it like an intrepid explorer.
Sebold's narrator largely does nothing of the sort. Most of her time is spent watching what's happening in the real world that
we wonder how necessary the supernatural element is to the story. One might extrapolate that this is what all science fiction
does and elucidate a good reason why fantasy can be labeled as science fiction since humans have curiosity and are willing to
investigate what's happening in the world. It is a scientific curiosity that asks questions: where am I, who are these people,
how do these things work. And so Soto the respected poet has now become a genre writer. Oh, the ignominy!
Moreover, Soto employs his skill as a poet to render not only powerful prose but also simple prose that might surprise a few fans
of style that literary has multiple styles. In fact, certain cadre of the literary ilk might scoff the style of, say,
the New Weird as too opulent, too uncommon man, too elitist (of course, by scoffing and saying their way is the only way, the
literary ilk become elitist too. So more power to the New Weird! Everyone finds their own path). Here, Soto captures a moment
so beautifully simple:
For those more familiar with true poetic effects, how about this doozy:
"The gravity of my new status as a ghost began to sink in as I hovered above the roof." Ha!
These effects added more depth at the beginning, but they didn't really pan out. Soto makes reference to Faust
and Inferno but to no narrative end (yes, yes, I know, it's the "afterlife" but I mean more integrally). These
references and an inquiry into purpose of the afterlife might have given the needed story structure.
The story bogs down in the middle under said lack of structure: Chuy is blown by the wind, to and fro, often bumping into his
family or bumping, a little too often for coincidental comfort, into his murderer with mixed
feelings: sometimes angry, sometimes curious, sometimes pitying, sometimes a downright unreliable narrator, for (assuming
the narrator weren't mocking his murderer's yellow shoes) why else does Chuy suddenly hate the shoes and call them "stupid"
and then mock someone for using the same word a page later?
Luckily for the story, Chuy stumbles on another ghost, a "popular" high school girl who has killed herself and with whom Chuy
falls in love. The girl's love finally gives Chuy purpose to forward the narrative, which brings up another question:
Is this really a young adult novel? I don't mean because it deals with sex and death and drugs. (Cautious parents beware: these
days, though, by the time your kid's a young adult, I'm sure he already knows about them.) The narrator seems less like a kid
from high school than a man reflecting back on youth. What boy introspects thus:
"I would call [the Raiderette cheerleaders] 'sweet' or 'hot,' the vocabulary of a seventeen-year-old boy?"
The observations on age groups older than himself are generally those of an older man. You can point out one-in-a-million
rare exceptions but these tend to be inculcated anyway, rather than thought out. Even if not, Chuy is supposed to be your
average joe.
The novel is best read as a metaphor. A transformation from life to death becomes Gary Soto's guide for boys passing through a
similar transformation into adulthood: drugs, murder, revenge, poverty, football, and love.
Through this lens, The Afterlife is a potent success -- probably one of the most carefully written young adult books
that I've read in a long while.
Trent Walters' work has appeared or will appear in The Distillery, Fantastical Visions, Full Unit Hookup, Futures, Glyph, Harpweaver, Nebo, The Pittsburgh Quarterly, Speculon, Spires, Vacancy, The Zone and blah blah blah. He has interviewed for SFsite.com, Speculon and the Nebraska Center for Writers. More of his reviews can be found here. When he's not studying medicine, he can be seen coaching Notre Dame (formerly with the Minnesota Vikings as an assistant coach), or writing masterpieces of journalistic advertising, or making guest appearances in a novel by E. Lynn Harris. All other rumored Web appearances are lies. |
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