6 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Know what you're buying., December 12, 2006
This review is from: (George) (Paperback)
Strange how the mind goes...in a fit of nostalgia, I was having a good old time reading first chapters of Beverly Cleary's children's novels online. Then I remembered the one, creepy book I bought when I was eleven: yellow, with a picture of two boys in the driver's seat of a car, with a cop staring at them disapprovingly.
I bought (george) as a child for one reason: the Dell/Yearling cover font and design matched that of Beverly Cleary's books. That, frankly, was enough to assure me of E.L. Konigsburg's quality as a writer...her book simply looked like those of Beverly Cleary.
I was eleven. Sue me. I won't apologize for not having sophisticated criteria. I'm 28 now. Finally, I can see the book for what it is...and it's a deep, psychologically complex story of a young, gifted boy who has created within himself an alter-ego named George, whom he channels to cope with his genius-in-a-child's-body existence. It's a fascinating read for teenagers and adults interested in multiple personality disorder and its affect on children.
What it is NOT, however, is a book for children and should definitely not be marketed to, or bought for, any kid under the age of thirteen. The misrepresentation of this book as a children's story is widespread (certain Amazon listings actually list the reading level as "infant"), from its cover art on, but it's in fact far TOO complex in narration and characterization for a young reader. In fact, questionable narrative strategies and the young protagonist's point of view make it only appropriate for the sophisticated teenager.
What I remember of (george) at eleven is that it was damn creepy, and not in a good way. Goosebumps, this is not. A tale about a boy who has a "little man" inside of him, (george) deals with very, very mature subject matter like alienation, imperfect parents and, arguably, mental illness. What's so dangerous about this book is that the mentally-ill protagonist, Ben, narrates the events while treating his split-personality George as a normal, mostly happy element of his sixth-grade life. George vocalizes through Ben occassionally, but more pervasively nags in Ben's own mind, making sardonic and very adult internal commentaries about Ben's parents, his brother, his teacher, etc.
This is the best analogy I can think of: Family Guy's Stewie. Imagine Stewie's voice in your child's head, all the time, a voice that occassionally vocalizes through your child. Now, imagine that being portrayed as serious and normal, not comical.
In retrospect, and refreshing my memory about the book by reading plot synopses and reading reviews, I can see where E.L. Konigsburg was going with this. Ben is a gifted, I.Q.-endowed child (a detail I forgot) with a sixth-grade brain that wants to break out and tackle more complex issues. George, then, is a manifestation of Ben's desire to be more mature. Split personality, I suppose. As the book progresses, Ben uses George in a variety of ways...to justify wrong behavior (like stealing a car), to talk back to adults using George as an excuse, etc.
Heady stuff for an eleven-year-old, and I'm usually a proponent of not underestimating children's ability to handle complex narration.
But, seriously, coming from Beverly Cleary's books to this was pretty big leap, and at eleven I was too disturbed to finish the book, initially.
I mentioned "danger" earlier. Books written for such a young audience usually establish "suspension of disbelief" assumptions for the reader to explain away fantastic elements. For example, Cleary's Ralph is a talking mouse that humans can understand. The explanation? Only young boys who share Ralph's interests can understand him. Similarly, Ralph rides a toy motorcycle which is self-propelled. How does a toy run itself without help? Only a few people know that making the "Pb-pb-b-b-b" motorcycle sound will make it go. OK, cute and innocent explanation for a plot hole.
Konigsburg explains away George's existence as "the little man who lives inside Ben" and writes narration from Ben/George's point of view that generally promotes intolerance about parents, teachers, psychologists and cops who are genuinely (and rightly) concerned that Ben has a mental problem.
Two-thirds of the way into the book, George becomes angry at Ben and gives him the silent treatment: in effect, Ben's other personality withdraws, leaving him alone for the first time. Konigsburg clearly intends for her audience to become invested in the George character, so when he's gone, children reading are left hoping he'll return. When he does, finally, you're encouraged to cheer.
Cheer? George is an invasive personality, not an imaginary friend.
The illustrations of George in the text also promote him as a normal and sympathetic, including the triumphant last picture of the friends rejoined: Ben and his little brother walking down a street. On the pavement, you see the brother's shadow, Ben's shadow...and attached to Ben's, the shadow of a two-foot tall little man.
E.L. Konigsburg's novel is in the middle of its own identity crisis: is this split personality good or bad? Are the concerned parents and authority figures sympathetic or not? To the sophisticated adult reader, the answers are "bad" and "yes." To the child who has nothing but the writer's narration to form an opinion, the answers are "good," "not," and "what's a split personality?"
Sorry. I don't think Blume's books about menstration or whatever should be banned because they're informative to the target audience. I do think, however, that (george) is a dangerously presenting a serious mental disorder to an audience that does not have the frame of reference to fully assimilate its meaning.
This is a good book. It is not a book for children. For the adult reader, it's five stars. For the child, just one.
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