If you’re taking part in the read/blog along for The Outsiders, feel free to leave your posts or thoughts in the comments here and I’ll do a nice round-up at the end of the week.
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I picked up Hinton’s classic — perhaps the first YA book to be designated as such in 1967 — having little idea of the story. Sure, I knew some of the classic lines, and I knew the character names, and I was also somewhat familiar with the themes in the story. But I had no idea how it progressed, what the writing would be like, nor what would stand out to me as a reader. Going in with a lack of preconceptions was great, and it reminded me why reading backlist can be so rewarding and enjoyable in a way that sometimes reading the newest, latest, most buzz-y books isn’t. You get to sink in slowly, at your own pace, for yourself, rather than be steeped.
There’s not a lot to say in terms of plot, though; this is a story about a group of boys known as the greasers (which, yes, every time it showed up on page, reminded me of Grease and John Travolta) and their rival group known as the socs (so-ches). The two groups are divided by the city they live in physically but more importantly, they’re divided economically. The greasers are your poor kids and the socs are your middle class kids. The hobby du jour in town is for the two groups to rumble. In a present-day story, rumble would not be the word. It might be something more like fisticuffs.
Ponyboy is the protagonist and he’s 14, living with his older brother Sodapop, who is a high school drop out and his even older brother Darry. Darry is in charge of the boys since both parents died in a car crash prior to the story beginning. It’s a rough life, and Ponyboy feels throughout the story that he wants to be like Sodapop, and he fears his older brother Darry doesn’t like him. We learn, though, that it’s simply the way that Darry worries about Ponyboy that causes him to be strict or, as Ponyboy sees it, mean and cold.
Hinton does a great job telling us about the living situation, and knowing that this book is written as a story in a story — spoiler alert, it’s what Ponyboy writes to earn extra credit in one of his classes — it’s forgivable there is more telling of the story than showing it. We don’t really see the difference in class other than hearing about it, but knowing it’s through the perspective of a younger teen boy, it’s not hard to buy by any stretch of the imagination. What works wonderful through this storytelling device more than anything, though, is the emotion. We get to know exactly what Ponyboy thinks and feels, since he’s removed enough from the story to tell it and reflect on it while he’s telling it. This serves to give us a real sense of fear, of anger, of sadness, and of motivation he has.
The Outsiders is infamous for being one of the first YA books that really showcased the YA voice and perspective in a way that makes clear grownups aren’t always aware of the challenges and hardships that comes during adolescence. We’re there in the rumbles and we’re there through the emotional ups and downs of having friends who are hurt, who make poor choices, and the sorts of consequences that occur with both. Because that’s the thing about adolescents, about teenagers: they make stupid choices. A perennial complaint from adult readers of YA is that the main characters do dumb things, but anyone who knows a thing about teenagers knows that that is part and parcel of being that age. You’re learning, making choices that don’t always make sense, and yet, those are the places where learning can occur.
So much of this is smartly mirrored in the adoration Ponyboy has for Sodapop. Soda, who he refers to by good looks and as if he “has it all,” isn’t particularly book smart, and he made the decision to drop out of high school. There’s not a value judgment placed upon it, but rather, it’s used as a means of highlighting to Ponyboy that, with his smarts and determination, he has the power to continue his education and go places with it. Sodapop doesn’t have those same opportunities open to him because of the choices he made. Where Ponyboy paints that picture of an idol, we also see as readers those pain points and those flashes of truth that Sodaboy is, too, a flawed character who has made and will continue to make some questionable choices.
From the beginning, I found myself most drawn to Darry as a character. I think a big reason for that is that he’s not described much from Ponyboy for a long time. We get this sense he’s quite removed, that because he’s the “adult” in the story, he doesn’t know the half of what’s taking place.
The thing is, though, Darry might be most conscious of everything going on and purposefully works to ensure that his brothers stay safe first and foremost. He’s the foil to Ponyboy and the rest of the crew in that he’s the “adult” that they are sure doesn’t “get” what it’s like to be constantly in danger or in regular fear of another battle with the socs.
The Outsiders is one of those books that it seems everyone reads in school. I remember that the regular Reading classes in 7th grade took this on. I was in an advanced Reading class, and we didn’t — I couldn’t tell you what we read, but I could tell you the other reading because it came with so much complaining from teens in that class. As a teen, I guess I sympathized (hard to say now, of course, but I suspect I did because assigned reading can be that way). But now as an adult, I see why it’s such a popular classroom staple. There are a million ways to talk about this book, its themes, its characters, its contributions to the larger canon of children’s lit, its perspectives on life as a teenager, and so on. There’s essentially no wrong way to read this book or dissect it because there’s so much juice to it.
And, perhaps a point worth digging into in more contemporary classrooms and discussions of the book, it’d be worth talking about whether it’s been dated or continues to hold an important place in literary history. I’d argue that it certainly does, as shades of Hinton’s classic run through so many other YA novels. But I’d also have to note that there are places that, were the novel to be rewritten today, would be suspect to more critical eyes and criticisms, and rightly so. The language used in the book isn’t particularly kind toward Natives (I flagged at least one passage about “screeching like an Indian”), which in and of itself would provide a lot of discussion and critical fodder. What would this book look like were it written today?
I’d venture to guess it wouldn’t need to change a lot. Even the lack of technology here doesn’t necessarily “date” the story; rather, written today, it might offer a better “show” of the difference in economic class between the greasers and the socs.
My biggest fascination with the book is a relatively small one: Ponyboy loves books and reading. We know that, but we not only know that because he’s telling the story; we know it because he shows us with what he’s reading and his knowledge of literature. The weaving in and use of Gone With The Wind is particularly memorable, if only because it gives the book a sense of humor. It’s wild to think of two tough boys choosing to read that book when they’ve run away from a crime, and it’s wild to think about it becoming such a powerful novel that defines their relationship as friends and what happens when one dies and the other lives.
If you haven’t, you should pick up Hinton’s The Outsiders. I wouldn’t put it on my list of favorites, but knowing the value of the novel canonically, as well as knowing how much influence it has had on YA over the last fifty years, it’s worth the few hours it takes to read the 200 pages. It’s a good starting point to YA for those who are new to the category, and it’s a great reference point for those wanting to expand their knowledge.
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Whenever I take part in a read/blog along, I always love taking a peek at the covers for backlist titles. Here’s a selection of some good ones from over the years. It’s not comprehensive, and I left off the one that we’re probably all really familiar with in mass market.
Next year, in honor of the 50th anniversary of The Outsiders, there will be a special repackaged cover. It will look like this:
If I hadn’t already thought about Grease every time I read the word “greasers,” then this jacket might make me do it. I love how simple and powerful it is in its simplicity.
This is the cover I have for the 40th anniversary. It was part of the Penguin “Platinum” line, and it’s really sharp looking. The gray on the side line is slick. The only thing I don’t like is the choice to go with deckled edges on this one; for the life of me, I don’t get why that’s considered high end when it makes flipping through pages nearly impossible for the small handed like myself (not to mention how it makes quickly perusing for quotes impossible).
Another cover that came out in 2006 was the Classics line cover, and this might be among my favorites. It’s true to the feel of the novel — there’s mood with the color and lighting choices, as well as in the fact that the person on the cover is running away. But the “running away” is toward the reader, giving it even more pow.
This is the “official” 40th anniversary edition. It’s got a nice vibe to it, though it’s not all that memorable. It reminds me a lot of some of the covers I’ve seen for graphic novels (I assume that’s what the goal was here) and also, weirdly, a bit of Fahrenheit 451.
In 1971, you could snag this mass market edition for a mere 10 cents. I love that it looks like a bad, bad record cover. And those boys look like they might be too nicely dressed and polished to be greasers. Though they have the hair down. Is the guy in the middle wearing a chain?
This is about as perfectly 1982 as you could get in a book cover.
The 1988 audiobook from Listening Library gets so many points because it incorporates a pile of references from the book. The busy, cluttered feeling almost works with the color choices; the burning church is a real great addition. I wonder what a cover with just that as the central image might evoke in terms of readership.
