Lauren RabainoFew figures were as pivotal in the transition of the young adult book from a marketing tool to a respected literary genre as Robert Cormier.
Beginning with the 1974 publication of “The Chocolate War,” Cormier brought a darker, more psychologically textured approach to stories about teenagers, their struggles and the often confusing, possibly indifferent world around them. In subsequent books such as “I Am the Cheese,” “We All Fall Down” and “In the Middle of the Night,”
he would continue to deftly explore the emotional terrain of adolescence with the honesty and integrity necessary to point out the awkward but inevitable truth that good guys don’t always finish first, and even when they do, the victory might well be Pyrrhic in nature.
Of course, it helped that such truths were often wrapped in stories as suspenseful and entertaining as they were fatalistic.
By the time “Tenderness” was published in 1997, Cormier was 72 years old and just three years away from death. At this late stage of the game, his readers might have accepted he’d paid his dues, given him a pass and been grateful he was still writing at all. But even if that pass was there for the offering, Cormier had no interest in it. “Tenderness” was one of the most riveting works of his career.
Eighteen-year-old Eric Poole has just been
released from juvenile detention for the killing of his mother and stepfather. After his arrest, he convinced people he had been pushed to the edge after years of physical abuse at their hands. However, Police
Lt. Jake Proctor, the arresting officer at the time,
not only doesn’t buy Eric’s story, but strongly suspects him of the unsolved murders of two teenage girls.
Upon Eric’s release, Proctor vows to bring him to justice for what he is sure is the inevitable violence that will be unleashed.
But someone else is fixated on Eric as well: an alienated 16-year-old named Lori Cranston, who had briefly befriended him years before at a time when she had desperately needed warmth and caring, when she had needed . tenderness. She runs away from home in hopes of finding him and, perhaps, loving him.
But is Eric indeed reformed? Will Lori’s belief in Eric prove tragic or redemptive? Will Proctor’s instincts allow him to serve a justice delayed or will he merely hurt innocent people in his quest for one he’s (too) sure is guilty? These questions and others play out under Cormier’s skillful hand and, step by step, we become involved and invested in the characters’ increasingly desperate choices.
While the book is expertly written on a number of levels, perhaps the most impressive is Cormier’s empathic understanding of Lori, someone so longing for love she’s willing to risk her very life to find it. Once again, Cormier’s insight into the pain and uncertainty of adolescence makes for both a memorable character and an absorbing, heartbreaking reading experience.
Quentin Dunne is a psychology graduate student and Mustang Daily book reviewer.