“Sweethearts” by Sara Zarr (Little, Brown
Young Readers, 9780316014557, $16.99)
Sara Zarr’s debut novel, “Story
of a Girl,” became a finalist for the National Book Award and one of my
favorite reading experiences of 2007; so her follow-up book, the recently
released “Sweethearts,” had pretty high expectations to meet. And meet
them—really, nearly exceed them—it did. This novel tackles important and
tricky subjects, and Zarr’s handling of them is never less than deft,
insightful, and powerfully affecting.
From the outside, Jenna Vaughn is a popular high school senior with a solid
home, a circle of friends, and an enviable catch of a boyfriend. But inside,
Jenna knows that a part of her remains the miserable and isolated
nine-year-old who lived behind a latchkey and who had just one friend in all
the world, an equally alienated little boy whose sudden disappearance years
ago had helped pave the way for Jenna’s skin-deep transformation into her
current self. That boy was Cameron Quick, and just as Jenna’s senior year
gets underway, Cameron Quick returns.
Cameron’s surprise reappearance throws Jenna’s neatly cultivated life into
disarray. She can’t explain him to her friends, she can’t reconcile her
boyfriend to his presence near her, and she can’t admit to anyone but
herself how important he’s always been to her. It’s not that she loves
Cameron, that they were childhood sweethearts; it’s deeper and larger than
all that: she and Cameron shared something together, survived it together,
and that experience marked them both in ways only they two can fully
understand.
It’s in this aspect of her storytelling that Zarr’s remarkably fine writing
truly shines. Dealing with memories of childhood trauma and emotional abuse
can easily devolve into greasy voyeurism that victimizes the sufferers all
over again. But here, Zarr takes the high and difficult road by focusing on
the survivors’ strengths rather than the perpetrator’s actions. She shows
Jenna gradually choose to confront the well-kept secrets of her past even as
she struggles to understand what has happened to Cameron since his
disappearance so long ago—and why he can’t seem to effect the same sort of
transformation she has.
Actually, I’m in awe of Zarr’s adroit handling of the difficult emotions
that Jenna and Cameron stumble through: they’re nearly adults now, but their
personalities are shadowed by the woundedness of their childhood selves. As
high-school life spins frivolously around them, they hold secrets that they
know will bring a halt to that carousel, and despite the wrench and jerk of
doing so, they still grab for the brake.
Also, Zarr doesn’t deny the danger that Cameron embodies for Jenna. She’s
attracted to him after his return, and her parents are by turns protective
of him and wary of his mysterious movements and partly cloudy past. By
accepting him back, there’s a risk that Jenna will be pulled back down into
darkness.
“Sweethearts” is a beautifully nuanced novel—not graphic, not exploitative,
but rather clear-eyed in its honesty and in its refusal to promise a tidy
conclusion. Zarr’s message is poignant and courageous throughout: keeping
something secret won’t make it go away; it will only prevent the keeper from
moving forward.
(Highly recommended for teens and adults)
Review by
Mark
David Bradshaw, March
19, 2008
Back
to Reviews
