The Chocolate War -- Robert Cormier Chapters 1-5
As you've probably already learned from Kelly and Liz, the three of us are giving Robert Cormier's The Chocolate War a close look this week. If you've read it, I'm guessing that even if you're hazy on the details of the plotting and the characters and the structure, you can still tap into your emotional reaction to it. It's been well over ten years since I read it last, and I know I can.
It blew my mind when I read it as a teenager, it blew my mind when I read it in my 20s, and I fully expect it to blow my mind again now. It's a brutal story—emotionally, philosophically, physically—and Cormier doesn't pull any punches or offer any platitudes. Life isn't fair, bad things happen to those who don't deserve it, justice isn't always served, and people can be broken.
And yet.
And yet, despite where the story leaves him, there's something inspiring in Jerry Renault's attempt to matter, to find meaning, to disturb the universe. If you're interested in YA, and you haven't read it, you really ought to—Cormier is a cornerstone, and without him, we wouldn't have authors like Chris Crutcher or Chris Lynch—and if you have read it, but it was years and years ago, I'd say that this would be the perfect time to pick it up again.
So, without further ado, here I go, back into The Chocolate War.
Chapter One: Introducing Jerry Renault
- First line: "They murdered him." In this scene, it's in the context of football, but of course, it's also some HEAVY DUTY MEGAZORD FORESHADOWING. Um, spoiler, I guess? Oh, wait, it originally came out in 1974. A twenty-year statute of limitations on spoilers is more than fair, I think. Jerry's response to getting nailed again and again in practice—to get up and keep going, almost despite himself, like his force of will is stronger than his logic—is, of course, also HEAVY DUTY MEGAZORD FORESHADOWING.
- Cormier's description is killer: "A telephone rang in his ears. Hello, hello, I'm still here. When he moved his lips, he tasted the acid of dirt and grass and gravel. He was aware of the other players around him, helmeted and grotesque, creatures from an unknown world. He had never felt so lonely in his life, abandoned, defenseless."
- In less than four pages, we get a strong impression of Jerry's personality and state of mind, a bit about his mother's recent death and a bit about what he's searching for without really being aware that he's searching. And Cormier does it all without overt exposition.
- Also, there's the first of many references to masturbation—because, HELLO, high school freshman—which is one of the various reasons that this book still gets challenged again and again.
Chapter Two: Introducing Archie Costello and Obie
- And now we shift to Obie, the mixed-feelings-having right-hand man of the school's resident sociopath, Archie. Archie is smart and charismatic and controlling and devious, and while sometimes I wholeheartedly appreciate characters like that, he's one who makes my skin crawl.
- Archie's coming up with assignments for The Vigils, and while they aren't overtly explained—the assignments or The Vigils, another example of Cormier's avoidance of the infodump—it's pretty clear that The Vigils is some sort of underground student gang, and that whoever the assignees are, well, they've probably got some ugly days ahead of them.
- Jerry Renault is the last boy that Archie puts on his list—along with the word chocolates—and he includes him in good part because of his mother's recent death. Which kind of says it all about Archie.
- What else? Ah. The setting: a Catholic school is called Trinity.
- Challenge fodder: Lord's name in vain, etc., etc.
Chapter Three: Jerry has a run-in with a hippie
- Three days later, Jerry gets accosted by a jerk of a hippie—They really say man, Jerry thought. He didn't think anyone said man anymore except as a joke. But this guy wasn't joking.—and even though he's fully aware that the hippie is a jerk, what the hippie says—that Jerry is sleepwalking through life, just going through the motions rather than actually living—resonates.
- This bit really got me, just because it's such a perfect encapsulation of where Jerry's at:
Why? someone had scrawled in a blank space no advertiser had rented.
Why not? someone else had slashed in answer.
Jerry closed his eyes, exhausted suddenly, and it seemed like too much of an effort even to think.
Chapter Four: Introducing Brother Leon and the chocolate sale
- Back to Archie, who has just had a major realization: "Archie became absolutely still, afraid that the rapid beating of his heart might betray his sudden knowledge, the proof of what he'd always suspected, not only of Brother Leon but most grownups, most adults: they were vulnerable, running scared, open to invasion."
- While I'm on the subject of Brother Leon: what a bastard. On the surface, he's just as horrible as Archie, but I think he's even worse because A) he's an adult, and B) while Archie does what he does because it's in his nature, Brother Leon does what he does because he's nasty and grasping and hateful and mean. I have such incredibly strong negative feelings about him that Archie almost looks good by comparison. ALMOST.
- Long story short: while the Head is in the hospital, Brother Leon will be the interim head of Trinity. The annual chocolate sale is coming up, and he bought a ton of cut-rate boxes—twenty thousand of them instead of the usual ten—in the hopes of making double the money twice over. Brother Leon wants the Vigils to ensure that the sale is successful, but he can't come out and say anything about them, because obviously the school can't acknowledge their existence. Some cat-and-mousing goes on—the balance of power tips back-and-forth a couple of times—and it's a wonderfully tense scene.
Chapter Five: Introducing The Goober and the Room 19 assignment
- Enter the Goober: Despite his height, he was easily six-one, he reminded Archie of a child, someone who didn't belong here, as if he'd been caught sneaking into an Adults Only movie. He was too skinny, of course. And he had the look of a loser. Vigil bait.
- As the Assigner, Archie isn't technically the head of the Vigils—the President is Carter, a bruiser of a football player—but everyone (including Carter) knows that the Assigner is the true leader and the President is merely an enforcer.
- Goober gets his assignment: he has to go to Brother Eugene's homeroom and loosen every single screw in the room. Every desk, every chair, the blackboard, everything. On the surface, that doesn't sound so bad—it'll take a long time, and it'll be a lot of work, but beyond that it seems tame—but as I know where the story goes, reading this chapter made me feel ill.
- LOVE THIS. The Vigils have a fail-safe to keep the Assigner from going too bananas with his assignments: every time he gives one, there is a 1 in 6 chance that he'll have to carry it out, rather than his intended victim.
Links!
Kelly: First Impressions