This book makes sense when you view it as a modern fable
So, my boys requested this book after watching the movie, and we devoured this cinematic little morsel ASAP. I considered labeling this one “magical realism” but it’s not really. There’s the element of destiny, fate, and cosmic what-have-you, and this is something that I usually dislike. I don’t like vague spiritual messages that confuse kids. But there’s something about Holes that feels different. I decided that I’d approach it like a modern fable or folk tale, and it clicked into place in my mind.
The Yelnats family is cursed with unluckiness. They can’t catch a break. For Stanley Yelnats the fourth, his un-luck lands him at Camp Green Lake, a reformatory for delinquent boys, where they have to dig holes in the hot sun as penance for their crimes. But, Camp Green Lake isn’t what it seems to be, and the boys aren’t digging holes to build character—they’re looking for something.
Two storylines from the past weave into Stanley’s present-day tale. There’s the story of Stanley’s great-great-grandfather, who brought the curse upon his household by breaking a promise to Madame Zeroni, a sharp-witted witch-doctor-y character.
Then, you’ve got the story of Kissin’ Kate Barlow, a famous outlaw who once robbed Stanley’s great-grandfather and left him for dead in the Texas desert. But his grandfather survived somehow—even he’s a bit fuzzy on the details.
I think the intertwining storylines and the no-detail-left-behind nature of how it all comes together hits me right in my literary heart. And it’s what makes the whole thing feel like a folk tale. It couldn’t possibly happen, but tell the story anyway because there’s truth in there.
But, this book isn’t set in a fantasy world. It’s set in modern times, so what is it trying to say? It is, I confess, a tad muddled, but I believe it’s telling kids that if they try to do what’s right, God will work all things together for good. Now, don’t mistake me, God as Creator is not mentioned, even though one of the pivotal locations in the book is named God’s Thumb, and it turns out to be an oasis of saving grace. There are elements of the story that point to a bigger plan than what we can see in a single lifetime. This is interesting.
The book is overflowing with fantastic characters, funny dialogue, and high-drama scenes. We really enjoyed it.
Some of the best YA fiction deals with this question. Here, Shusterman asks his teen readers to grapple with death in a dystopia where almost nobody dies—unless they’re among the minute percentage of Earthlings who must be “gleaned” in order to keep the global population under control.
Who does this gleaning? Scythes. They are the only human-led organization left on the planet. (A mega-technology called the Thunderhead governs the world.)
Scythes must glean a certain number of people per year, and they must do it without malice or bias. But what if they did it with…enjoyment? There’s no law against it. What if Scythes became the celeb rock stars of the world? What if, instead of being feared, they were worshipped?
Shusterman’s dystopia asks big questions about power and mortality/immortality. There is some fantastic potential for discussion here, but many teen readers will need guidance.
The concept of immortality (or, at the very least, a life that could last a thousand-plus years) is what kept jolting me out of the story. How can we even begin to comprehend a life without an imminent end? We value life because it’s fragile and over too soon. But what if we didn’t value life that way? This part of the story was hard for me to grasp and made it feel a tad distanced.
This book does everything so well, though. The writing stands head and shoulders above. Strong, complex characters. A couple of very spicy villains. The plot is perfectly paced, and the ending is a total knockout.
I can’t say that I love this book, but the execution is flawless.
The most astonishing thing about this reading experience is that I consumed this novel almost entirely at night, in the dark, right before bed. For someone who scares easily, I’m mighty proud of myself.
A man and his boy (never named) are trying to survive after a cataclysmic civilization-ending event (never explained), and they spend the novel dodging bad guys (cannibals) and figuring out how to not starve or sicken to death.
This book asks the question: Can we still be good even when everything around us is bad? Having just finished reading a lot of fairy tales, this question is not unfamiliar. Fairy tales ask this question over and over. Under what circumstances, under what pressure, do we compromise our integrity, stretch the bounds of morality, allow anger to rage, and succumb to despair?
The boy repeatedly asks his father, “We’re still the good guys, right?” Since they’re barely clinging to the bottom rung of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs (basic survival) and there’s nothing higher to live for or aspire to…it’s important to the boy that they’re “good guys.” This is all the boy can hope for in life beyond simply existing. Which begs the question: Are people born with an innate sense of right and wrong? I believe so.
The Road is a journey with no destination. There’s no safe harbor for the characters to aim for. Every time they stumble upon a good place, they can’t stay long. Someone might find them. There’s always this sense of impending tragedy. Every time the man left the boy somewhere, I had to quickly skim ahead just to make sure he was okay.
The book also asks “What’s the point of continuing to live?” These characters live in a world that’s bad beyond anything that I’ve ever experienced. Why not just give up and find a peaceful place to starve or freeze to death? I’m glad that this book takes a life-affirming approach, for all its bleakness.
