Toot-tootle-oo! (That’s that medieval trumpet sound of oh-hey-big-news, but you’ll have to imagine it sounding more impressive than the phonetic sounds I just typed out…) The National Book Award’s long list for Young People’s Literature has been announced! I’ve read three of the books already: Skink – No Surrender, Brown Girl Dreaming (I reviewed it here), and 100 Sideways Miles. I really badly want to read The Greenglass House (after reading the Book Smugglers’ praise of it), Revolution, and Port Chicago 50. In celebration of these books getting recognized – congratulations to one and all, by the way – I think I should write a quick review of 100 Sideways Miles, which I actually read on Thursday, not knowing it would be on the list. I read an ARC of the book, but you should check out the hardcover if you can because the inside jacket has a cool little picture for curious peekers.
Star Ratings for 100 Sideways Miles
Characters: **** (4 stars)
Character Development: *** (3 stars)
Plot: *** (3 stars)
Writing: **** (4 stars)
Overall: ***1/2 (3 1/2 stars)
Age Range Recommendation: 14 + (Lots of language, talk of sex)
Andrew Smith is a weird-ass writer. He writes weird-ass books, and they’re not for everyone. Personally, I think they’re pretty funny. He has a talent for embodying the voice of a certain type of teenage boy, and he continues to do it well. Those teenage boys are usually in wack-attack-y situations, think Grasshopper apocalypses and rough boarding school experiences, in some of his earlier books. And the supporting characters tend to be really, erm, memorable. 100 Sideways Miles continues in this fine tradition, and will probably appeal to fans of John Green’s more outlandish novels or the surprisingly relatable books by Meg Rosoff.
I don’t really know how to go about describing the plot of 100 Sideways Miles. Finn has seizures, sometimes, and he has an always-inappropriate best friend who has everyone in the palm of his hand, and he has a dad who once wrote a SciFi novel with a cult following. He has a crush on this beautiful new girl at school, a powerful need to beak free from his father’s literary shadow, and a big scar on his back from when a dead horse fell from the sky and crushed him and killed his mother. Finn measures time in distance, because in the space of one second the Earth hurtles 20 miles through space, so basically every little thing that happens on the surface moves very little in comparison. Finn and Cade and Julia break into abandoned buildings, camp drunk, and make terrible dirty jokes. Finn tries to find a way to free himself from his father’s book, because he feels like too much of that weird story about alien visitors coming to Earth and then eating people is based on him. Or he’s based on it. Or something.
Even though everyone’s always worried about the possibility of Finn “blanking out” and getting hurt, he and Cade plan a trip to go see a college, but the trip doesn’t go as planned. The become unlikely heroes, sort of, and come to understand life better, maybe. The plot doesn’t matter so very much; it’s not what kept me reading. I liked the strength of friendship between these two rather different boys, and the witty banter. I’ll remember the occasional striking moment when all of Earth seems to slow down for just a second and make a little bit of sense, just because one confused teenage boy looks at how far it’s carrying us in the grander scheme of things. There’s a lot of swearing, because that’s how high school boys can be honest with each other without sounding like utter tools. There’s some awkward condom buying and bizarre sexual favors, because, um, hormones exist. If it weren’t for the strange parallels to Finn’s father’s writing, or the weird turns of events near the end of the story, I would call this a very solid work of realistic teen fiction. The stuff about “getting out of the book” seemed a little forced to me, and the pacing was slow in the beginning and then rushed at the end. Still, it’s fun to read about the comical (and sometimes profound) interactions between characters in situations which are almost like the ones regular teenagers have to face all the time, just skewed a little to be surprising and entertaining.
Grownups aren’t entirely absent in 100 Sideways Miles, and some of them are pretty interesting (Cade loves to torture this one history teacher who dressed up like a Nazi to make history “come alive”, and eventually stresses the guy to death), but they’re not important. Julia is a very realistic girl, not necessarily quirky or “special” or “not like other girls”. She is like other girls, for the most part, but she happens to be the one that Finn falls in love with. I liked that. She’s also black, and the two of them talk about that without making it a big issue. I liked that too. She has an unhappy event in her past which I thought could have been treated a little more thoughtfully, and their quick feelings for one another grew out of almost nothing, but I appreciated the natural interactions between the two of them.
Anyway, the relationship that matters most is that between Cade and Finn. Cade is…well… he honestly steals the show a lot of the time. Which is kind of the point: he makes people laugh and makes things happen and Finn is ok with that. Aside from the distasteful jokes and his weird obsession with certain body parts, I can see why people like to be around Cade so much. He keeps things lively. And the friendship between the two boys is what keeps 100 Sideways Miles lively, too. They look out for one another. They humiliate one another, which made me laugh to remember how much of high school I spent cringing in embarrassment around my own friends. People and conversations are what Andrew Smith is best at. Luckily, I think that there are plenty of teens who like those qualities to shine in the books they choose. So this will be a book for them; the readers who write down quotes and see their friends as characters.
I’m still rooting for Brown Girl Dreaming to win the National Book Award, but I’m glad to see that Andrew Smith got some recognition for this fresh and entertaining book. I’ll leave you with a quote I particularly liked, to prove that there are some real winners scattered throughout the text. (It’s quoted from the ARC and may have changed slightly since publication.)
“Worry and regret are both useless weights that provide no drag. They never did anything to slow down the planet for one goddamned second.”
And good luck to anyone who closes this book and would rather forget that the planet is careening through space at a sickening speed. It took me hundreds of miles to even finish two sentences. I think that however far the Earth takes you while you’re reading this book, it’ll be a trip worth taking.