Book Review: Godless, by Pete Hautman
by Matthew P. Barnson
As a kid, I always loved Judy Blume books. Are you there, God? It’s Me, Margaret. Freckle Juice. Double Fudge. Superfudge. Blubber. Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great. Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing.
Eventually, though, I transitioned into a new world of Blume books. My brother, Jay, had a book by Blume called Then Again, Maybe I Won’t. At the tender age of 10, and my brother at 14, I was told in no uncertain terms by him that the book was too “adult” for me. He promptly hid it somewhere in his room to prevent me from reading it.
Of course, being the nosy little brother I was, I rooted around through his room one day while he was gone until I finally found it, buried in the bottom of his closet. I read it from cover to cover, carefully replacing it exactly where I’d found it a few days later.
I pondered what I’d read for a few days. On one level, it was a kind of weird book, talking about things I hadn’t experienced yet and didn’t really understand. On another level, I was starting to get really interested in girls, and I understood the kid’s fascination with watching his friend’s sister through the window. I understood that eventually I’d have wet dreams, and it made that kind of stuff much easier to deal with when I ran into those situations. Throughout the remainder of my adolesence, it was a book I’d steal regularly from my brother when in need of a novel to read, and as time passed and I understood more of what the book was about, the more I thought “Wow, this Judy Blume lady sure understands what it means to be my age.”
Overall, it was not only fun to read, but also helped me understand life a little better when I ran into similar situations. I didn’t make the same choices the protagonist did, but I could understand where he was coming from.
Blume continued with this tradition, writing several more highly controversial volumes, including “Forever”, a book dealing very frankly with teenage sex and commitment. It was widely banned from public school libraries due to some “graphic” portions. But when I read it, I saw it much more as being about friendship and love. How it starts, how it grows, and how it ends. Not only was it fascinating and entertaining for me as a young adult, but it was pretty critical in giving me some sense of perspective on relationships.
Yeah, I’m a guy. And I read “Forever”. Get over it!
Pete Hautman’s book, “Godless”, winner of the 2004 National Book Award for Young People, struck a similar resonating chord for me. It deals with the struggles of Jason Bock, a tall, fat, nerdy kid with a snail-collecting best friend called Shin.
Jason, upon getting knocked out by the scrawny, enigmatic Henry, has an epiphany about the nature of water towers while coming to underneath the town’s structure. Given his atavistic relationship with both his parents as well as their religion, he invents his own religion: “Chutengodianism”, or the worship of water towers.
I can’t give away too much more without spoiling the plot, sorry 🙂 Suffice to say that as honestly as Blume dealt with adolescent sexual issues in Then Again, Maybe I Won’t, Hautman deals with adolescent religious issues in Godless.
The book deals with the questioning of faith common to young people. And, as I discovered in my late twenties, these questions are common in older people, too. Jason is subjected to weekly meetings at his local church, where his constant questions about faith which are out of the experience of the instructor go unanswered and met with stern disapproval. He discovers that, as he suspected, despite the assurance of the instructor that all that was said within these meetings was confidential, his parents know of his responses and many details of the weekly faith meetings.
I had a similar experience as a teenager. I remember discussing something intensely personal with my ecclesiastical leader (referred to as a “bishop”, in LDS parlance), that within a few scant hours, had resulted in a lecture from my father on the same topic.
There are many coincidences in life.
This was not one of them.
My experience instilled in me a deep distrust of the “word” of authority figures, and I found Jason’s reaction remarkably similar. Pragmatism overcomes ideology, and quickly Jason finds it more convenient to lie to preserve peace and his personal freedom than to be truthful and face censure from disapproving parents and peers.
I also found Jason’s experience of a zealous father overloading him with religious materials to be strikingly familiar. As a young adult, my father regularly handed me books dealing with faith, Satan, the Last Days, and various metaphysical “events” which, frankly, bored me. I guess the main difference between the protagonist and me is that I felt duty-bound to read them cover to cover.
By the book’s end, Jason’s snail-collecting best friend, Shin, has taken his bogus religion too far. Like many of those slightly unstable teenagers we all knew as kids, he’d gotten far too involved to make reliable judgments, leaving Jason to clean up the mess, wondering how he can possibly control the spiralling effects of his brief sojourn into religiousness. But Shin said one thing that has stuck with me, and will probably end up in my little file of important quotes.
“How do you know it’s not true if you don’t believe in it?” asks Shin of Jason. “How can you understand something you don’t believe in?”
“Shin, that doesn’t make any sense. That’s like saying you can’t understand leprechauns unless you believe in them.”
“Do you understand leprechauns?”
“I don’t believe in them.”
“There you go.”
It’s a deep thought. How can you understand something you don’t believe in?
As many readers of barnson.org know, I’m an agnostic Mormon these days. Who knows where I’ll actually end up. I’ve found the scientific method, and a large dose of healthy skepticism, to be a pretty reasonable method for figuring out the truth. Last night, while at a friend’s house playing cards, we got into a discussion of evolution. I laughed along with everyone else about scientists sometimes seeming to just “add an extra zero” to timelines to make things fit.
Then I mentioned that radiocarbon dating is actually quite accurate in dating historical artifacts, and that tree-ring analysis has supported radiocarbon conclusions.
The response of my conversants was interesting.
“What?” they replied. “No, the dates are wildly inaccurate, because they don’t take into account major historical events.”
In the back of my mind, a little voice was telling me, let this topic drop. Unfortunately, I ignored it, and pressed on. “How do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, the dates are way off, because they ignore the fact of a worldwide flood.”
“Umm,” I began, my jaw dropping in incredulity that one of my neighbors actually believes in Young Earth Creationism. “And how…” I began.
I was cut off by the timely intervention of my friend, Paul, who understands my position regarding such anti-scientific theories. “And that’s the signal to say let’s talk about something else,” he interjected. Realizing the wisdom of his words, I chose not to press the issue with my friends.
I guess questioning religious and scientific assumptions isn’t just a teen issue.
The book is a slender read; at 198 pages, even with four children climbing all over me and interrupting me this past Saturday, I plowed through it in a scant two hours. Yet, like Blume’s books, within its short binding it deals frankly with adolescent religious behavior and questions, and ends with little fanfare. No cheering crowds, no conquering hero. Just a boy who’s a little bit changed, a little more grown up, bearing a few more scars, and a bit more skeptical about the world than when the book started.
I really liked it. I think you might too.
— Matthew P. Barnson – – – – Thought for the moment: I don’t know if it’s what you want, but it’s what you get. 🙂 — Larry Wall in <10502@jpl-devvax.JPL.NASA.GOV>