Early on in
True Notebooks
, author Mark Salzman acknowledges that this is just one more permutation of the old trope known as White Person Helps Impoverished Brown Children Realize That Art Matters. Indeed, this book's working title was
Dangerous Freedom-Writing Minds Find Forrester
.
It helps that
True Notebooks
is a memoir, and heck, I've got a weakness for that old trope anyway. This book did stir up some emotion in me, and there's some good subtle humor in the dialogue.
TN
, to me, had the double whammy of "Be grateful this wasn't your adolescence," and, "Isn't that awesome? These kids are discovering the freedom and psychological power of writing."
But, just as early on, Salzman also acknowledges the futility of the project. The kids he's volunteering to teach have all been arrested for serious violent crimes, mostly murder. They're being held in a juvenile facility right now, but almost all of them will be tried, sentenced and immediately moved to adult prisons, where they will live out the next few decades to life.
These can get a few quick lessons on how to write, how to think, and how to feel, but their surroundings were bad from birth. Now their lives are overshadowed by regret, and they're only going to go from bad to worse to hopeless. Salzman realizes, though, and successfully conveys that it's not futility if - in this particular moment - he's enjoying what he's doing, and so are his students.
Overall, of course, this book was good enough for me to see through to completion, but I would've liked it twice as much at half the length (and possibly four times as much at one-fourth the length). At its present 326 pages,
TN
has a lot of sameishness that waters down its impact.
The book's basic structure is this, over and over - Salzman shows up at the facility and exchanges a few words with at least one authority figure; he recreates the everyday dialogue he overhears from the kids, and his interactions with them; Salzman has some sort of worry or misgiving that things will go awry, and everyone will lose respect for him, or they'll discontinue the writing class; he suggests a topic for the kids who are having trouble; some of them write, some disrupt the class; they read their essays aloud, which he usually reprints in full (Free material! #chaching!), and which vary wildly in quality; there are remarks about the essays, almost always encouraging ones.
The most notable breaks from the formula are Salzman's initial debate whether or not to get involved in the program, the all-day writing workshop that includes girls(!), and one student's trial and sentencing hearing that Salzman attends. There are four or five kids who stand out in the story, while the rest are interchangeable - the class itself is a revolving door, with kids constantly coming and going.
Two of the authority figures are my favorite characters in the book, by the way. There's Sister Janet, the turbo-volunteer and living saint, and there's Mr. Sills, the head disciplinarian on the E/F unit where the book is set.
The whole book, though, has this overarching feel of the narrator being like, "Look at me, I'm recreating the way ghetto kids talk. Doesn't it seem authentic? I didn't even use a tape recorder or anything!" And then he's like, "Look at me, I'm white and nerdy. Holy cow, I'm just too white and nerdy. I'm so white and nerdy."