Page 102 of I Will Ruin You
I had no reason to doubt him. Marta’s visit, Bonnie’s revelations. It had left me frazzled. And the right side of my face was still swollen, bandages still on my neck and forehead.
“I gotta go do this thing,” I said.
There were two doors to the library: a main one and a secondary entrance that was by the librarian’s office. I used that one to enter unnoticed while the parents started filing in through the main entrance. Chairs had been set out by whatever caretaker Trent had brought in to take over from Ronny.
I found a library cart, the kind that gets loaded up with books when they are being reshelved, and wheeled it down the fiction aisle. I started loading it up with hardcovers and paperbacks. Star Trek novelizations and Stephen King tales of horror. The Twilight series and Harry Potter. The Hunger Games and all of Tolkien. The Anne of Green Gables books and the His Dark Materials series by Philip Pullman. Judy Blume and The Maze Runner books. Toni Morrison and Margaret Atwood. Classics the parents would know, like To Kill a Mockingbird, Lord of the Flies, Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles, The Call of the Wild, and one of my own personal favorites, The Princess Bride by William Goldman.
I stacked the cart with these books and others. Our librarian, who was not here this evening, would have a fit when he found out what I’d done, or was planning to do. I could hear murmurings at the other end of the room. People taking their seats.
Trent found me loading the cart.
“They’re here,” he said. “Fifteen, maybe twenty, tops. Not exactly the biggest mob in the world.” He paused. “And Herb.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Why don’t I say a few words, and then this group’s spokesperson will do some kind of opening statement.”
Sounded like a plan. He worked his way to the other end of the room and I followed, pushing the cart ahead of me. Fewer than half of the chairs that had been set out were filled, and Trent was right in his estimate. I did a quick count and came up with sixteen, eleven women and five men. But to get sixteen parents out to an event was still something of an achievement when everyone’s lives were so busy, so I wasn’t about to discount it.
At the back of the room, seated alone, was Herb.
I stood behind and to the side as Trent introduced himself to the room.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. “It’s always gratifying to me, and I know I’m speaking for Mr. Boyle here, too, when parents take a keen interest in what their children are studying. So we appreciate you taking the time to be here this evening to talk about this important issue. What I’m going to do is turn the meeting over to Mrs. Kanin, who’s going to explain why she asked for this opportunity to have some matters clarified, and then I’ll invite Mr. Boyle here to say a few words and take your questions.”
No wonder Trent had worked his way up the administrative ladder. What a politician. Not once did he use words like concern or complaint or censorship or ban. Trent, who was going to head back to the office, whispered to me as he slipped away, “Let me know how it goes, and text me if they look like they’re getting ready to string you up.”
Wasn’t it nice that one of us still had a sense of humor.
Violet Kanin stood up from her chair, but did not come to the front of the room. I recognized her, of course, as Andrew’s mother, who had for several years schooled him at home and, as I’ve probably already pointed out, did a pretty good job of it, at least where math and writing skills were concerned. She always attended parent-teacher events, and gave me a quick smile before speaking.
“Hi,” she said. “Forgive me if I seem a bit nervous, I’m not much of a public speaker.” She forced a laugh. “I want to say from the outset how grateful we all are for Mr. Boyle’s recent actions, and know that any of the issues we bring up tonight aren’t in any way meant to be critical of you.”
I nodded.
“But tonight we’re here to get some insight, we hope, into how you go about choosing what books our children will read, and whether they are really the best of the best, and just how appropriate they are. And it’s not about just the one book, this Road thing, but other books, too. Anyway, that’s all I have to say. I didn’t write anything down.”
Violet looked at me, sat down, and I took that as my cue. I took a step forward, hands in my pockets, trying to adopt a casual air, and said, “Thanks very much. I’m glad to have the chance to talk about—”
One of the men blurted, “Why would you be teaching books celebrating cannibalism? What on earth is the point of that?”
I guess we weren’t going to waste any time getting into it.
“Okay,” I said calmly. “Let’s start there. I’m sure many of you, at some point, may have read your children the story ‘Hansel and Gretel,’ or had it read to you as a child, and will recall that it’s about a witch who is trying to fatten up a couple of children on sweets before she cooks them and eats them, and that the children escape after pushing her into the oven and killing her. If I were teaching fourth grade, say, instead of high school English, and you learned the children had read ‘Hansel and Gretel,’ I doubt many of you would have been in touch. Cannibalism and murder are themes in ‘Hansel and Gretel,’ just as they are in the novel The Road, which, admittedly, is a much darker and more realistic tale, but in neither case are they things to be celebrated, although I don’t think we mind when the witch gets hers.”
Hoped for a laugh there, and didn’t get it.
“Most novels, most good novels, involve conflict and what human beings do to resolve it. The Road is a story about survival in the wake of a global catastrophe, and for kids who have grown up on stuff like The Walking Dead and 28 Days Later, it’s a way to engage them, to get them past the gore and the sensationalism and guide them toward a discussion of complicated moral issues.”
Violet said, “But this kind of material can be upsetting to some. Like my Andrew.”
I nodded. “It’s true. And if your son is troubled to the point that he does not want to continue reading the book, or participate in discussions about it, then I would find him an alternate. I think, if you were to ask him, he’d want to continue. Andrew has some pretty interesting insights into things that I’d be sorry if the rest of the class missed. But, and this is a question for all of you, don’t you think I would be doing your children a disservice if I made every effort to protect them from things that might challenge or upset them? I could cocoon them, avoid anything that might spark debate, that would raise questions of right and wrong. Of course, that would mean not reading any works of fiction at all, because that’s what we hope good fiction will do. Get the kids talking, thinking. Good fiction provokes and bridges gaps, can bring people together by exposing them to all sides of an issue.”
I stopped. I wasn’t foolish enough to think my little speech would win them all over, but at least a few of them appeared to be considering what I’d had to say.
I decided to go on, and wheeled out the cartload of books.
“Here’s a sampling of reading material from our library. We have a wide variety of things for kids to read here. Classics, more modern stuff. Everything from Huck Finn to vampires. I’m inviting you to take two or three books with you when you leave here tonight, read them, make notes about what you liked about the book, what troubled you about it, whether you think it’s right for your child. And if it’s a book you do like, that you think your child would get something out of, how would you feel if another parent decided your child shouldn’t be allowed to read it? And then—”