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Cover copy: In Jim’s revealing journal, which is the substance of this moving book, we share the experience of that terrible summer – the LSD and marijuana, the hippies, the disillusionment, the helpless confusion and fear. It is all recorded frankly, to the final horror of Kevin’s freaking out and the shaky beginnings of his redemption.
The freaking out silhouette is even more detailed and hilarious in real life.
Written in 1968 by a very square author determined to plumb the horrifying depths of drugs she clearly never tried herself, this novel is regrettably only intermittently amusing: one part Reefer Madness
to three parts unconvincing teen angst.
Sixteen-year-old Jim idolizes his nineteen-year-old brother Kevin to a rather disturbing degree. This is how the novel opens:
One day I ought to find out how it is with other kids. I don’t think I’m abnormal or anything for sixteen, but I don’t think that there are many guys my age who are still crazy about their older brothers. They might actually love them, but I just don’t think they are crazy about them. […] It’s not that I’m ashamed of it or anything like that, but how do you explain that Kevin is not just a brother to me? Besides being the greatest guy I know, he’s someone I’ve got to have. I mean it’s very important to me to have him.
Fandom! Stop making me go to the bad incest place!
Jim goes on and on and ON about Kevin for the entire rest of the chapter. He offers to be Kevin’s “Boswell” and follows him around writing down everything Kevin says to preserve it for posterity.
He is important.For one thing he never says ordinary, cruddy things. When he speaks he almost always says something really brilliant.
[…]
I really want his opinions on these things so they can become my opinions too.
Then, at the end of an entire chapter of that: I’ve been re-reading these last couple of pages, and I do sound sort of creepy.
Yes. Yes, you do. I’m going to go out on a limb and surmise that the author wrote this entire thing as a first draft and never re-wrote, but rather added in stuff like that as she went along.
Kevin comes home from college, and he’s become a marijuana fiend! He giggles maniacally, flaps his hands, hallucinates evil circles, and demands that Jim smoke pot (“You know. Tea. Grass. Marijuana.”) with him. Jim does so, despite his a Public Service Announcement’s worth of reservations. What follows is certainly the most unique pot high I’ve ever come across in fiction. While Kevin freaks out over the circles, Jim experiences ecstasy, hilarity, and then is visited by a devil who is out to get Kevin’s soul and an angel who urges Jim to save him. The angel-devil-Jim dialogue goes on for pages and pages and pages. Then Jim comes down and pukes his guts out. But lo! The angel is still there! The angel is real! Jim’s soul really is in danger from the Demon Marijuana!
The angel takes off, having convinced Jim that pot is bad. Kevin then hauls Jim out to score LSD, which Kevin has never tried before. They meet naked, dirty hippie chicks in a filthy squat, and nice adults who warn them of the terrors of “freaking out.” Kevin trips and – all together now – “freaks out.” This is disappointingly tame: he thinks the circles are attacking him, breaks a mirror and goes catatonic.
Kevin is taking to a mental hospital, where a nice psychiatrist fixes him up. He and Jim swear off drugs, and Jim resolves to try to get some of his own opinions.And then he goes and gets himself killed in Vietnam. The end!
Oh, forgot to mention: No one in the history of humanity has ever taken heroin and not become addicted, and it is impossible to ever get off it. If you take heroin, you are DOOOOMED.
View boggled reviews on Amazon: Tuned out; a novel
The freaking out silhouette is even more detailed and hilarious in real life.
Written in 1968 by a very square author determined to plumb the horrifying depths of drugs she clearly never tried herself, this novel is regrettably only intermittently amusing: one part Reefer Madness
to three parts unconvincing teen angst. Sixteen-year-old Jim idolizes his nineteen-year-old brother Kevin to a rather disturbing degree. This is how the novel opens:
One day I ought to find out how it is with other kids. I don’t think I’m abnormal or anything for sixteen, but I don’t think that there are many guys my age who are still crazy about their older brothers. They might actually love them, but I just don’t think they are crazy about them. […] It’s not that I’m ashamed of it or anything like that, but how do you explain that Kevin is not just a brother to me? Besides being the greatest guy I know, he’s someone I’ve got to have. I mean it’s very important to me to have him.
Fandom! Stop making me go to the bad incest place!
Jim goes on and on and ON about Kevin for the entire rest of the chapter. He offers to be Kevin’s “Boswell” and follows him around writing down everything Kevin says to preserve it for posterity.
He is important.For one thing he never says ordinary, cruddy things. When he speaks he almost always says something really brilliant.
[…]
I really want his opinions on these things so they can become my opinions too.
Then, at the end of an entire chapter of that: I’ve been re-reading these last couple of pages, and I do sound sort of creepy.
Yes. Yes, you do. I’m going to go out on a limb and surmise that the author wrote this entire thing as a first draft and never re-wrote, but rather added in stuff like that as she went along.
Kevin comes home from college, and he’s become a marijuana fiend! He giggles maniacally, flaps his hands, hallucinates evil circles, and demands that Jim smoke pot (“You know. Tea. Grass. Marijuana.”) with him. Jim does so, despite his a Public Service Announcement’s worth of reservations. What follows is certainly the most unique pot high I’ve ever come across in fiction. While Kevin freaks out over the circles, Jim experiences ecstasy, hilarity, and then is visited by a devil who is out to get Kevin’s soul and an angel who urges Jim to save him. The angel-devil-Jim dialogue goes on for pages and pages and pages. Then Jim comes down and pukes his guts out. But lo! The angel is still there! The angel is real! Jim’s soul really is in danger from the Demon Marijuana!
The angel takes off, having convinced Jim that pot is bad. Kevin then hauls Jim out to score LSD, which Kevin has never tried before. They meet naked, dirty hippie chicks in a filthy squat, and nice adults who warn them of the terrors of “freaking out.” Kevin trips and – all together now – “freaks out.” This is disappointingly tame: he thinks the circles are attacking him, breaks a mirror and goes catatonic.
Kevin is taking to a mental hospital, where a nice psychiatrist fixes him up. He and Jim swear off drugs, and Jim resolves to try to get some of his own opinions.
Oh, forgot to mention: No one in the history of humanity has ever taken heroin and not become addicted, and it is impossible to ever get off it. If you take heroin, you are DOOOOMED.
View boggled reviews on Amazon: Tuned out; a novel
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Re: Good God! Bolding mine
It's like with Esther Hautzig (author of the Endless Steppe -- she just died, did you see her obit in the Times?) who came to the US and wrote stuff like 'Let's Cook Without Cooking' and '101 Gifts For Under $1.' AMERICAN HAIRDRESSER.
Also, WTF were the Newbery people SMOKING
Manolo was only three when his father, the great bullfighter Juan Olivar, died. But Juan is never far from Manolo's consciousness -- how could he be, with the entire town of Arcangel waiting for the day Manolo will fulfill his father's legacy?
But Manolo has a secret he dares to share with no one -- he is a coward, without afición, the love of the sport that enables a bullfighter to rise above his fear and face a raging bull. As the day when he must enter the ring approaches, Manolo finds himself questioning which requires more courage: to follow in his father's legendary footsteps or to pursue his own destiny?
Maia Wojciechowska's family fled Poland during World War II and emigrated to the United States after the war. She worked as an undercover detective, a motorcycle racer, a translator for Radio Free Europe, and a bullfighter before turning to writing. She was a friend of Ernest Hemingway, who said she knew more about bullfighting than any other woman.
Oh Ernest, WHY SUCH A DOUCHE.
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Re: Good God! Bolding mine
WHICH IS THAT OF A DOUCHE.
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Re: Good God! Bolding mine
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Re: Good God! Bolding mine
My favorite part of the book was when the doctor was showing Manolo the gore wound from a bull. It was very descriptive and explained very well how the wound looked.
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Re: Good God! Bolding mine
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Re: Good God! Bolding mine
But how does a woman who races motorcycles and fights bulls decide to write a story warning kids about the dangers of "freaking out"?
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Re: Good God! Bolding mine
But how does a woman who races motorcycles and fights bulls decide to write a story warning kids about the dangers of "freaking out"?
That is the real question. It sounds like from Rachel's description and my own memories that this story was FAR, FAR REMOVED from the author's experience and she got it so terribly wrong it's just ludicrously funny. And if she was born in 1927 and it was published in 1968 that's quite a generation gap there already....
I didn't see anything at all in those archives listings about Tuned Out. WTF. BUT. I give you this:
The collection holds some correspondence relating to a filmstrip, "Stoned". ....Correspondence and royalty statements, 1980-1994, 7 items.
A FILMSTRIP. I would LOVE to see this. ....apparently she also wrote an 'adult' novel about Ernest, which I'd be interested in reading to see whether or not she bought into the myth or called him on his bullshit....then again looking through some of the titles of her proposed nonfiction articles ("Oliver Stone as Artist/Victim/Perverter", "An Open Letter to Madonna on Parenting") she seems a little, uh.
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Re: Good God! Bolding mine
The filmstrip: maybe I saw it (http://rachelmanija.livejournal.com/789400.html?thread=9160600#t9160600)
If so, smooth moves, Maia: thanks to you I had a 20 -year craving to try LSD.
From:
Re: Good God! Bolding mine