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Overdue Book Reviews: Veronica Mars did it better than 'The Outsiders'

(Photo Courtesy of Dell Publishing)
(Photo Courtesy of Dell Publishing)

overduebookreview

(Photo Courtesy of Dell Publishing) (Photo Courtesy of Dell Publishing)

This week, upon deep literary contemplation, I thought I would share with you a little overdue #throwbackthursday with the worst three weeks of group reading of my middle school career: S.E. Hinton's "The Outsiders." Dubbing this the worst is saying a lot for me, especially considering my classmate's cries of "This is boring!" and "Why are we reading this?" when we read "Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry."

My first and foremost criticism lies in the fact that, if I really wanted to hear about a spunky kid overcoming the social tensions of your average high school, I would turn to my good old friend Veronica Mars. I mean, the book was written by a 15-year-old. If you think you can't tell that it was, you're wrong.

As Hinton tries to prove how much she knows what it's like to be an outsider, it becomes alarmingly clear what this book is: a poorly written, overwrought outlet for a young girl's teenage angst. From the ridiculous names (Sodapop? Ponyboy? What is this, a Nickelodeon kids show?) to the buckets of frustrated gang members, the book is about as high school drama as you can get.

The book did shock me in one aspect, however. There are kids sleeping in vacant lots and stabbing rich kids, everyone is being bullied and Ponyboy can't seem to pass ninth grade. This isn't the picture of the mid-century I remember from "Leave It To Beaver." I thought everyone was passing school, hugging their parents and going to raise hell in the streets with their friends — and, by that, I mean overturning the neighbors' potted plants and teasing little brothers!

I, as an eighth grader, was floored by how little grace (or sense) Hinton showed when she wrote the book’s climax. Why did Ponyboy have to run away with Johnny? He wasn’t the one that killed Bob the Social! Why were there little kids stuck in that church when it caught on fire?

Good thing your friendly neighborhood gang members were there to save the day! I’m so glad I had the help of this masterful, mature author in showing me the light: Just because you participate in mob violence and theft doesn’t mean you aren’t a good kid at heart!

Also, what’s up with their use of the term “rumble?” Where I come from (that is, rural California), we call that a “fight.” No need to pretty the terminology up, bucko. You aren’t fooling me.

Then there's the ending. Oh, the ending. We were just reading Ponyboy’s English essay about his mischievous friends, and I guess that explains all of the cliché descriptions, overwrought language and shaky character development. There had to be some kind of excuse, right? Otherwise, how would a newly-minted high school graduate have secured a book deal!

Despite all of this, we cannot deny the awkward inspiration gained from Johnny’s prophetic last words, so I’ll leave you with this: "Stay gold, Ponyboy."

 

Lament, O' Dear Reader, Lament to the reporter about your middle school reading assignments ezentner@asu.edu or follow her on Twitter @emilymzentner

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