Look! Real, honest-to-goodness books!
Launching WRECK has been unlike launching any other book in my career. Its subject matter is hard, and the book isn’t funny (I love writing funny books). But more than anything, its launch feels a way I can’t quite name. The only thing I can come up with is disrespectful.
So many people have died recently–in my sphere and in others–and the world is so difficult and dark right now. Launching a book about death just seems like more grief fuel.
Most times, launching a book is a moment of joy and pride. And it still is, in some respects, even under these circumstances. Maybe I’m being irrational. It’s only a book. It’s not real. But Steve and Tobin’s story seems rather unnecessary right now, even if the story is beautiful, or it gives someone a new way to look at the subject matter. It seems unkind to launch a book like this.
In my life, I’ve lost three people since January, one of them an immediate family member. If I expand my circle to my friends’ lives, I can add several more deaths, ranging in age from 16 to 91. If I count up all the deaths in my circles, my husband’s circles, and our friends’ circles (friends we’d invite for supper, not acquaintances), it’s close to twenty people. Since December. 4.5 months of steady deaths.
I don’t feel like this is normal. So adding more grief and sorrow to the mix just seems wrong.
All of these deaths make me wonder what the larger lesson is. Why so many people in such a short time? One person I put this question to told me to grow up–there wasn’t any pattern or reason, it was just life, so I should stop trying to find any answers. But I know myself. If my brain’s going to search for answers (and it’s gonna, like, forever), then I should give it one.
Maybe all of this death is the way the Universe is drawing us close to one another, and re-teaching us how to support each other. It’s a reminder that all we have is each other, and life is most useful, special, and rewarding when it’s shared. As we comfort each other, we can re-member ourselves, re-enlist in the army of humane humanity. We can re-connect ourselves with each other.
The book does this, too. Ike reminds Tobin, more than once, that we have each other, even in the dark times, and we have to live the moments life gives us until there are no more. Maybe a book that considers these facts is okay right now. Maybe it’s better than I thought. But it still feels . . . difficult. Not right. Maybe disrespectful.
I do love this book. I think the story’s worth reading, and it’s well told. I think teens can use a book like this, to help them deal with their own grief. I personally don’t welcome more grief right now, which re-presents itself every time I talk about Tobin, Steven, and Ike. My brain and my heart are difficult territory right now.
But like it or not, here we are. The book is here. And so is sadness and grief. It’s just life.