Growing up, I often found young adult literature lacking. Emerging into adulthood, I was left with a sense that adolescent lit was phoned in: Sweet Valley High, Babysitter's Club, etc. The writing was weak, the plots were weaker, but this was what I was given. Had I realized what else was out there, I wonder how my reading and writing would have been affected. Would I have been less inclined toward disillusionment? Would I have seen meaning from an earlier age?
Speak was published my freshman year of high school. I didn't, however, hear anything about it until my early twenties, when I happened to pick it up at Barnes and Noble. Still stinging with the sense that young adult books were lacking, I was shocked to realize there was a world of actual literature aimed at youth. Speak was a prime example of this.
Melinda's voice is consistent, believable and relatable throughout the novel. She is an unlikely heroine to whom a teenager could honestly relate. She's wry, self-deprecating, quietly and weirdly observant: she's the every-loser. The reality of high school is that everyone, no matter their social status, at some point sees him- or herself as, like Melinda says, “Outcast”, capital O (Anderson 4). Teachers are alien and bizarre, if not sadistic, like Mr. Neck. Parents don't notice or “don't have time for” their teen children (88). Anderson importantly places adult characters who show concern and compassion for youth. Although she displays the popular concept that Adults Don't Understand, she also lets her young readers know that there are adults willing to listen and help. Adults like Mr. Freeman.
Speak doesn't talk down to its readers. Told through an adolescent voice, the observations are keen and biting (“A predator approaches: gray jock buzz cut, whistle around a neck thicker than his head. Probably a social studies teacher, hired to coach a blood sport”) (5). The subject matter is realistic and serious, beyond the boyfriend problems in Sweet Valley. Anderson allows readers into the deep and meaningful pain of a young woman dealing with issues no one should ever face.
This story is heavy in symbolism, another way in which Anderson delivers a literary young adult novel. The symbolism of Melinda as a dying/dead/blossoming/renewing tree is scattered throughout the book. In the first grading quarter, she paints trees struck by lightening: “I try to paint them so they are nearly dead, but not totally” (31). The second grading period finds her working with a linoleum block, in which “there is no way to correct mistakes” (54) and she tries to carve what “looks like a dead tree” and she “can't bring it to life” (78). Some hope begins to emerge in the third quarter: “underground, pale seeds roll over in their sleep. Starting to get restless. Starting to dream green” (133). During the fourth and final marking period, Melinda cares for her home's lawn. She rakes leaves and clears the ground, allowing air to “pale green shoots of something alive [that] have been struggling under the leaves” (166). Her father furthers this concept of renewal when he explains why a man is taking a chain-saw to a tree: “By cutting off the damage, you make it possible for the tree to grow again. You watch – by the end of summer, this tree will be the strongest on the block” (187). Finally, Melinda acknowledges her assault and her survival in terms of trees: “I'm not going to let it kill me. I can grow” (197). This symbolism continues in the form of mouths and mirrors and shards of glass.
Anderson even brings some existential questioning into the mix, questions of God and freedom and dualism. We see this idea of duality both in Melinda and the things around her. Her couch is described as having two personalities (15), the cheerleaders “operate in two realities simultaneously” (30), and, most importantly, “the two Melindas fight ever step of the way” (132). We see Melinda's struggle to reconcile what has happened to her with who she believes herself to be. The idea of freedom is seen as an ugly truth (Mr. Freeman, a significant name, characterized as ugly) (10) and God is questioned in the form of an assignment Mr. Freeman gives: “is he going to make us thrash around with this ridiculous assignment without helping us?” (32). This is, possibly, how Melinda views God: why is God forcing her to suffer without giving her any reason for her suffering, any reason for this task she must endure?
Anderson has created a gorgeous example of a problem novel. The reader accompanies Melinda through every step of her pain, her dealing with being raped, the realities of the situation. We are guided from the beginning, struggling stages through to Melinda's final acknowledgment and survival. I'm nearly certain that any teen who has endured similar trauma would find some comfort in Speak: Melinda survived, so can I.
Anderson, Laurie Halse. Speak. Platinum ed. New York, NY: Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 1999. Print.
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