I recently purchased the novel “Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock” by Matthew Quick, and though I have not yet finished it, I can safely say that this is one of the best, most thought-provoking realistic YA novels I have ever read. The writing is deep, yet simultaneously witty and dry and astoundingly unnerving. It tells the tale of Leonard Peacock, a teenage boy planning on shooting his former best friend and himself in the head on his eighteenth birthday. Throughout the book, Leonard recounts stories from his life, while also giving away each of the four presents he has prepared for his closest friends. Included in the book are yet-unexplained passages from Leonard's “future” peers (including his best friend, wife, and daughter), each urging him to hold on and attempt to get past this difficult time, for his future holds great happiness. It's quite clear that these are most likely written by Leonard himself. Through Leonard, the book drives home the point that, though we as teenagers all have so many ideas and aspirations for when we grow up, nearly all of us will inevitably end up in an endless, boring and miserable cycle of working, eating, and sleeping – a cycle wrought on us by society's expectations and our deep-seeded fear of straying too far from what is considered “normal”. Quick portrays this message through Leonard following adults on their way to work, him listening to a bullied boy play beautiful music, and Leonard's recount of birthday songs.
Sometimes, Leonard dresses up as a grown-up and follows the most miserable adult he can find to their workplace, all the while trying to mentally tell them to lighten up. One example of this is when he says on page 46, “Do anything! Something! Because you start a revolution one step at a time, with each breath you take. Just don't go back to that miserable place you go every day. Show me it's possible to be an adult and also be happy. Please. This is a free country. You don't have to keep doing this if you don't want to. You can do anything you want.” This shows that Leonard wants, more than anything, for people to follow their dreams and wishes, for them to break free of their shells and truly find peace, happiness, and discover a joy of life. He wants this because he needs to know that it's POSSIBLE, that when he grows up he won't be doomed to this awful existence. Unfortunately, this is nearly impossible; there are things to worry about, such as bills, and food, and shelter. And because he despises and wishes to get away from such a life, he wants to end his before his true depression can begin. Another example of this begins on the next page, when he says, “If you keep getting on that train and going to the place you hate I'm going to start thinking the people at schools are liars like the Nazis who told the Jews they were just being relocated to work factories. Don't do that to us. Tell us the truth. If adulthood is working some death-camp job you hate for the rest of your life, if it doesn't get any better, I need to know right now. Just tell me. Spare me from some awful f---ing fate. Please.” This is a haunting allusion to WWII, when soldiers lied to the people; they told them that it was going to be nice, the place that they were going, when they were obviously leading them to their deaths. Leonard (or Matthew Quick, rather,) compares that to the adults KNOWING that children will be faced with awful situations once they grow older, but they don't do anything to stop it.While of course it is not nearly as dramatic or awful, it is just as depressing, especially since these people seem to have more control over actions than Nazi soldiers did. But do they, really? Are they, too, not pawns in society's game of producing people to behave a certain way, never working to achieve their dreams for fear of alienating their friends and peers? Are they the Nazi soldiers who sent bright, happy people to their deaths? Quick compares the two situations beautifully, and it truly presents the message the whole book is trying to achieve.
On another occasion, Leonard listens to a bullied boy play hauntingly exquisite music on his old, passed-down-for-generations violin. He finds it enchanting; the fact that the boy, Baback, can grow into a confident, assured person, just through creating notes on his instrument. He says on page 84, “The best part was that he closed his eyes and kept nodding to the rhythm of his bow sawing, and you could tell that when he played his violin, he wasn't a tiny misplaced Iranian boy living in a secretly racist town – no, he was a god in complete control of his world.” This shows that Leonard finds hope in Baback; that he sees a savior in him. That, perhaps, this boy can become one to achieve that sought-after prize: living your dreams and being happy with your life. It's the one thing Leonard wants more than anything, and he recognizes that Baback can actually REACH it. It's why he thinks so highly of him. Directly after, he states, “And I understood why he didn't need friends or to be accepted at our sh---y racist high school, because he had his music, and that was so much better than anything we had to offer.” Here, Leonard expresses how Baback was so far above everyone else that Leonard knew; that Baback was going to leave this town, and go travel the world and really LIVE his life to the fullest. Leonard appreciates and respects the fact that Baback is so content with his hobby that he doesn't need anyone else, and he even envies him; for Baback is the 1%, part of that group of so few who will not be riding the train and going to that miserable place.
Finally, Leonard has a recollection of when people would remember birthdays. He says on page 99, “In elementary school the teachers always remembered your birthday, and that was nicer. There were cupcakes or brownies, or at least cookies, and everyone sang in a way that made you feel really special and a part of something, even if you really hated all of your classmates deep down. There's a reason the elementary teachers did that. It wasn't just for fun. It was important.” Here, Leonard is saying that when you're a child, everything seems achievable. People will always be nice. You will always be able to have a good life. You will get to be an astronaut, or a ballerina, or a rockstar. People will always remember your birthday. This is refuted when he goes on to say, “And I wonder at what age it's appropriate to stop keeping track of everyone's birthday. When do we stop needing the people around us to acknowledge the fact that we are aging and changing and getting closer to our deaths? No one tells you this. It's like everyone remembers your birthday every single year and then suddenly you can't remember the last time someone sang the birthday song to you, nor can you say when it stopped. You should be able to remember, right?” This is when Leonard/Matthew Quick expresses that at some point, people will stop being nice to you. They will throw cold water in your face and tell you that life is not fun, it's not meaningful or imaginative. You will be expected to follow a set of instructions given to you by society, never free to do what you wish or to follow your dreams. You will do this for the rest of your life, and then you'll die, and no one, not a single soul, will care that you existed. Nobody will remember your birthday. It's a bleak message, yet phenomenally powerful.
In conclusion, this is a beautiful, heart-wrenchingly painful story about a boy who only wished for an assurance of life after high school. He wanted to know, more than anything, that it will get better; that you will be able to live your dreams and be happy about your life, even though things seem awful at the present. Sadly, he realizes that this is not the case; that life after high school is even worse. This is a message that should be stated to the rest of the world. We need to learn that it's okay to be different; it's okay to do what you love, it's okay to take a trip around the world just for the heck of it. We can do whatever we please; we do NOT have to be dictated by other people's commands.
No comments:
Post a Comment