Today as part of our Chocolate War read and blog along, we have a guest post from librarian and blogger Angie Manfredi about why this book matters to her and to YA lit more broadly.
Michelangelo Antonioni and Ingmar Bergman, two of cinema’s greatest directors, died on the same day. A few weeks later, The New York Times simultaneously published appreciations of their work by two more of cinema’s greatest directors. Martin Scorsese wrote a piece about Antonioni entitled The Man Who Set Film Free and Woody Allen wrote a piece about Bergman entitled The Man Who Asked Hard Questions. The cinephile in me fluttered with joy at this but, more than that, the book lover in me saw those two titles and thought instantly of one writer: the young adult author, Robert Cormier.
To me, no one is a better fit for these two monikers. Cormier was the man who set young adult literature free and, perhaps more than anything, he was a man who asked hard questions.
In none of his books is this more evident than in the classic The Chocolate War. Published in 1974, it’s sometimes referred to as the first young adult novel, but if I were making judgments about that, I’d give the honor to S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders which appeared in 1967. But there is a real case to be made for The Chocolate War as the beginning of young adult literature as we know it today and it’s not just “this book was different than children’s books because it was still for juvenile readers but it had teen characters and dealt with ‘mature’ topics!” No, The Chocolate War is the book that asks hard questions simply because it doesn’t claim to have any answers.
I will spare you the standard recap, you probably know it already. But let’s pretend you don’t: Jerry goes to a private Catholic boy’s school. Jerry dares disturb the universe and resists the mandate from the ruling clique at his school that he must sell chocolates to fundraise for their cronyism.
You know what happens next, don’t you?
Jerry collects a band of fellow misfits and begins to truly question the power structures inherent not just at his school but in the world. Jerry and his misfits rise up, against great odds and with much at stake, to expose the injustice.
Of course!
And you know what happens next, don’t you?
Jerry and friends are victorious! Slowly but surely the rest of the school rallies around them inspired by their courage to also speak out, there’s a empathic adult there to lend insight and support at just the right time (possibly Jerry’s father, who has roused himself from the depression he’s been in for most of the book to really be there and connect with his son) and Jerry who stood up for what he knew what was right … Jerry’s so glad he disturbed the universe.
Ah, wait.
That is, of course, not at all the way The Chocolate War ends. No, The Chocolate War ends with the status quo safely in place, the adults in the story more than just blindly looking the other way, but actively shielding and defending the teens who have committed criminal acts. And the bullies? Their power is not just intact, nay, it has been strengthened by this show of ultimate force. We leave Jerry literally beaten to a pulp, muttering to his single ally that trying to disturb the universe won’t work and, in fact, isn’t worth it.
And it is this ending, completely devoid of even a shred of hope or light, that is the brutal crowning grace of The Chocolate War and, moreover, this is the moment young adult literature is really and truly set free from the constraints and conventions of children’s literature. Nothing before this moment has achieved the same severing of young adult literature from children’s literature. Yes, there’s an actual death in The Outsiders, but we leave Pony Boy with a pen in his hand, the hope for words and healing. There is none of that in The Chocolate War – the powerful stay powerful, corruption runs deeper than we could have guessed, and our hero is hauled out on a stretcher.
To me, Cormier’s greatest legacy is the clear definition between children’s and young adult literature. There was no mistaking it – this was not a book for children. It was a book for older readers, those ready to tackle big, hard questions and moral grey areas, readers who didn’t demand or need everything all wrapped up with a big bow. Yet even with that, it still wasn’t for adults. No – this was a book just for teens. All these years later, it still is.
When Kelly and Liz announced this project, I decided I wanted to participate. I re-read it for what was about the fifth time in preparation for writing and the one thing that stood out to me was how current, how immediate, it still feels. Reading about the way adults not only refuse to get involved but often support the bullies? I couldn’t help but think of places like Steubenville, Ohio. The powerlessness Jerry feels? Cormier builds that tension with an intense, almost claustrophobic mastery – you are entirely wrapped up in this insular and sharply dangerous world. That’s a reality so many teens still live with. Adult readers may feel unsettled by The Chocolate War but I think teen readers, still, will find much to relate to in it.
With The Chocolate War, Cormier asked hard questions about morality and justice that young adult literature is still trying to answer. It’s this reason, after all this time, he’s still the writer that set us free.
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Angie Manfredi is the Head of Youth Services for Los Alamos County Libraries. She blogs at www.fatgirlreading.com and tweets incessantly @misskubelik. Her most recently finished book was Sidekicked by John David Anderson.
I love this. I read The Chocolate War as a kid and was drawn to it because Jerry's suffering felt so true. I imagine that's the same reason it's still uncomfortable for so many adults. Wonderful to read about it in its historical context after so many years. Thank you.
Very good essay! I like how you constructed the alternative, "safe" version of The Chocolate War's plot. I also like how you say that the novel's atypical ending set YA books free.
When I read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, its plot reminded me of The Chocolate War in some ways: tyrannical principal, a secret school gang, ulterior motives to "for-the-good-of-the-school" policies. When I read To Kill a Mockingbird, I wondered if Jem Finch may have partly inspired Cormier's creation of Jerry Renault.
I am sorry to have found this discussion so late. I have been fascinated by The Chocolate War since a colleague introduced me to the novel in the 1980s, and I would like to add two things to the discussion. First, Robert Cormier never intended this or any of his novels to be Y-A. He set out in this and his other works to write a good work of fiction. I think this is a worthwhile reminder as ever-larger systems of agents, conferences, and networks work to carve out an evermore elaborate definition of what a Y-A novel "should be." Second, the novel, characters and setting all come out of a very real and now fortunately defunct school. My colleague was a student there and a classmate of Cormier's son, who did indeed refuse to sell chocolates his freshman year. While the most tragic event in the novel did not happen and Cormier used his talent to weave gold out of the dross that made up that place, most of the people, attitudes, and effects did exist and most of the teachers who betrayed the students in the book have been revealed as sexual predators as well as horrid individuals. Many of the students in the school were permanently and sadly and badly affected by their years there, and those who survived consider the novel a testament and a witness to what happens when adults betray young people as certainly they were betrayed.