#371 The Rise of Charlie Drop
My friend Kevin Teague wrote to tell me he had a novel coming out in November, and asked if there was any way I could endorse it with my readers. I felt kind of torn. On the one hand, Kevin is a good friend, and was the very first Hyperionite (which I keep telling him will one day get him a talking-head gig on CNN). On the other hand, I learned the hard way a couple of years ago that between my two most prized things—loyalty and integrity—I have to take integrity every time. I’d rather lose everyone who’s ever spoken to me than lose that.
However, I figured if I didn’t care for the book I could just not review it (after all; there’s no law that said I had to). But I was still kind of nervous when it arrived in the mail, and refused to open the envelope for a few days. (Another problem: I’ve never written a book review. How do you even do it?) Then I finally got brave and ripped it open. This is what I found:
It was kind of surreal seeing one of my friends as the author of a book. Oh, and his picture on the back page? I laughed for ten straight minutes. In fact, I think I’ll look at it again and laugh some more.
[Pause]
He’s just so serious! Back to the novel, I eventually sat down and read it.
Then I read it again.
Then I read it again.
This alone should tell you something.
The novel chronicles the life of Charlie Drop, a young boy who tells us of his adventures in a straight-forward clear way; which was nice because so often in first-person stories the storyteller is hiding something from you. I hate that.
Charlie has a few problems, but hide he does not. In fact, the very first line of the novel reads, “Back then, we ate trash.” Talk about your economy of narrative! Right away we know that Charlie is (or was) very poor, poorer than probably you’ve ever been. Charlie has an even bigger problem: strabismus, which is a fancy way of saying Charlie Drop is really really cross-eyed.
Those first few pages, told without melodrama or manipulation just broke my heart. Yet even then, you sense Charlie is a fighter, in spirit as well as flesh. He doesn’t feel like a second-class person, mostly because his older brother Henry won’t let him. I’ve often felt like (some) people rush to throw a pity party for disabled people, which ends up being patronizing and crueler than the jerks. It’s like robbing their humanity, and making them all about that one thing.
What Kevin does so well through Charlie’s voice is give us a regular guy, who’s sweet and kind, and tough, but also has faults like anyone else. I rooted for Charlie, but I didn’t always like everything he did, or why. That was a good move, as the temptation would make him be St. Charlie. (You know; the kind of character that Robin Williams would be frothing at the mouth to play.)
The novel (which at 287 shortish pages; you can probably read it in about three-plus hours) tells us what happens to Charlie and Henry after a series of unfortunate events. I won’t go into too much detail there other than to mention a few highlights: we get an insider’s view of the (sometimes) soullessness of upper-middle class suburban life, and also get to hang out with some Albino separatists. You know you have a good story when there are Albinos—who have formed their own government. (In fact, every novel should have them.)
I want to go back to the way Charlie talks for a minute. One of the reasons I’ve never been able to get through A Catcher in the Rye is because I flat out don’t buy anything Holden Caulfield is selling. Having tried it first hand on several occasions I am here to tell you that first-person narrative is tough. What Charlie does is plow right in the middle of things. There are times when he mislabels a situation—owing mostly to his young age or naiveté of the world—and there are some moments that are too emotional for him to go into detail; these ring true, like a real person would talk. Charlie has a vernacular, but it never feels like a really smart author performing as an uneducated kid. It just feels like Charlie.
It’s possible that’s Kevin’s greatest gift: making the characters feel real. I could see all of them, sometimes felt like I’d already met them. Plus—and this isn’t a bad thing—the story is so weird at times that it never feels like a Hollywood production, with the neat tidy moral and hug scene at the end and everyone hitting their cues. It sounds like it really happened to Charlie.
The second time through I started marking down page numbers of things I wanted to mention. I have enough for 40 paragraphs, so I’ll just keep it to a few.
Sometimes Kevin is able to describe people in such a way that it feels like he’s reached into the Kosmos and snatched their souls. There is one passage where Anodontis (an albino poet) is asked to described Mindy and Christy; two twins even Hyperion wouldn’t want to be around (and you know how scary they must be for me to forgo twins). Andontis thinks about it for a moment and then says:
OK….Mind and Christy. They’re what French sounds like to people who don’t speak it. They are knives lifted overhead. Ghost girls blowing ashes from their tongues. The ashes aren’t from wood. The ashes aren’t from cloth. The ashes aren’t theirs. The ashes are yours, burned from your soul with their eyes.
Is that a description or what? Can’t you just feel the menacing strange beauty of these girls?
Another time Charlie is telling us about Teddy, a mute boy who lives with the Albino separatists. Teddy wants to come with Charlie on an adventure, and won’t give up the argument, even though it will be dangerous, especially for a sheltered kid like Teddy. Charlie says, “See, a sheltered kid would enjoy leprosy if it meant he got to leave the house.” Now, I know most of us aren’t that sheltered, but how many times as a kid (or even an adult) have we felt that way? That anything would be better than being stuck where we are. That’s how Charlie is able to capture people, and by extension us.
Just a couple more. For an uneducated kid, Charlie knows way more than the average person (thanks to Henry, who took charge to make sure Charlie knew stuff). At one point Charlie and Teddy are having a snack.
We split a can of olives, the kind with seeds. Some people call ‘em “kalamata olives.” But I call ‘em “olives with seeds” so no one feels stupid not knowing kalamata olives.
Okay, one more and I’ll quit. Charlie and Teddy are on their way to
“No, no, they don’t allow boats in
His mouth just dropped.
“They don’t even have normal pets. Most people just have a tuna fish or a seal pup in their back yards. Wait.” I said. “they don’t call ‘em ‘backyards’, they call ‘em backlakes’.”
Teddy clapped his hands, he was so happy. He asked how to make a fish your pet. With dogs he knew to give ‘em treats. With cats he knew to talk to ‘em. But he didn’t know the way with fish.
“Well,” I said,” all vertebrates are thankful for kindness. Fish aren’t any different. You just learn to pet a fish super soft, softer than a baby mouse. After giving ‘em treats they’ll worship you and follow you and help you swim.”
Teddy’s face turned red he was so happy, which I didn’t know could even happen. He asked what I would name my fish. I said I would name it something intellectual like Balthazar or Einstein, just to encourage his intelligence.
“I will name mine Ted,” Teddy said. He spelled out T-E-D.
“Why not Teddy?” I asked.
“I do not like Teddy.”
That blew my mind. I’d never heard anybody not like their own name. Besides that, I’d never heard Teddy not like anything. For such a happy kid to not like his own name really got me. So I wondered if I liked my own name. I said it to myself until I knew it pleased me.
“I have a name for a lady fish,” Teddy said. “Donna. It was my mother’s name.”
“OK, that’s a good name,” I said. “Donna’s a real good name.”
I couldn’t just say, “Donna wasn’t your mother’s name,” or “Your mother left you in the desert in 1988.” That kind of truth does nobody any good. Sometimes lying really is the best way, especially if it’s helpful. At least, I’ve always enjoyed helpful lies.
Sniff sniff.
Okay, let’s talk Turkey: Is there anything I didn’t like, and will you like Charlie Drop? The book is laid out in three sections, the middle of which we find out what’s going on through a series of letters between Charlie and his brother Henry. I wish I could have heard more about where he was living at the time (with the Albinos), partly because that whole life seemed so fascinating. I suspect there are constraints a first time author is given by the publisher, and when you get to the end you realize that’s where Kevin wanted to spend his money (and for good reason), but I still wanted more.
In the same vein, I wished for more of the great side characters, especially Christy and Mindy. However—and maybe my experience as an author helps here—I know that sometimes it’s best to just get a glimpse; in some ways it’s more complete than a full novel could be. Not to mention the fact that you’d rather have the audience craving chapter after chapter of colorful side characters than wishing their weren’t as many.
Both of these points are very minor, though, and only mentioned so you wouldn’t think I was a fawning idiot.
More importantly, why should you click on the link at the end of this review and buy the book for Christmas?
Let me tell you who WON’T like this: If you have to have a pretty bow on your stories, you may not like this. I’m not saying there isn’t a good ending (there is), but I also told you it feels real, and nothing in real life is ever 100% perfect.
Secondly, if you’re one of those haters who’s always looking for the hidden meaning, go read Da Vinci Code again. There is plenty of commentary—in a silent fashion—on several segments of our society. But that’s for you to pick up. Charlie doesn’t waste time moralizing or sermonizing. He has a story to tell.
And that’s the last group of people who should stay away: those afraid of a story. For the rest of you, I wholeheartedly recommend The Rise of Charlie Drop. If you’re buying it as a gift I think it would be fine for a teenager (maybe even a few years earlier if the kid is very bright). It’s also great for adults. In fact, I’m not sure it’s possible to find an interesting person who wouldn’t be interested in Charlie. He’s just a cool little dude.
Before I go, I have to mention the ending. Most books just don’t know how to end. (For example, I actually really enjoyed Da Vinci Code, but you have to admit he goes and goes and then gets to the end and doesn’t know what to do.) Charlie Drop doesn’t have this problem.
The ending will floor you. In a good way. Let’s just say that all three times it got a bit “dusty” in my room, and there was something wrong with my eyes, if you know what I mean.
The Rise of Charlie Drop by Kevin Teague. I’m proud to give it the honor of my very first book review, and I exhort you to go get it.
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