Social Intercourse, by Greg Howard

[Ulysses]

Social Intercourse
By Greg Howard
Simon and Schuster Children’s Publishing Division, 2018
Five stars

“I touch lives.”

This is the second excellent YA novel with central gay characters I’ve read in the past week, so it seems a good time to compare. Gillian St. Kevern’s “The Biggest Scoop,” like Greg Howard’s “Social Intercourse,” has an out, confident, well-adjusted gay teenager as its key protagonist. Both of these books have a very parallel cast of characters—the expected crew when you’re dealing with a YA story set in high school. You’d think this formula would get very tired, and indeed it often is. But both St. Kevern and Greg Howard do the essential thing to prevent their books from being same-old-same-old: they add twists, which shifts the standard plot and adds a whole new level of interest for the reader.

It’s interesting that YA novels often have families in which one parent is absent. I’m not sure why that’s so common, given the general trauma of being a teenager, but it’s true in both of these books. But in Greg Howard’s book, all four parents play crucial roles in the comedy/drama that unfolds. Beckett Gaines’ mother and father are not together, but they’re both there. Jaxon Parker has two moms, adding a welcome dimension to this story arc. Trouble is, his moms have separated, and he’s terrified that the women who adopted him will break up for good.

And this is the kicker: one of Jaxon’s moms is dating a man. And thus the thorny issue of bisexuality rears its head.

So, Beckett is an out, proud gay boy in his school, which is in small-town South Carolina, not known for its gay-friendly ambiance. He isn’t the only gay student, either. This book is not about his coming out. Jaxon Parker, on the other hand, is the golden boy of the YA trope: gorgeous, blond, blue-eyed, and the captain of the high school football team. But Jaxon has two moms, and has never put up with any crap about his family. Jaxon is also bisexual, something he’s admitted only to his mothers.

And now you see what makes this book special. This is in fact a book about what it is to be bisexual in a culture (not just the Deep South, but in America in general) that is not comfortable with such ambiguity. It is also a book that looks at how culture shapes the way we see ourselves, and how fear can make us cowards when we ought to be brave.

What I particularly loved about this book is that it is not a shallow “bi is good” politically correct embrace of Jaxon and his mom. As Beckett and Jaxon, who have known each other since they were small, get to really know each other, both they and the reader are forced to accept the fact that bisexuality is real, and also how it is seen as threatening to gay folks. There are plenty of sort-of-bi-but-really-gay teenage boys in YA novels, but their bisexuality is generally presented as a stop-gap or a self-delusion that prevents them from embracing their gay selves. Not here: Jaxon is as bi at the end of the book as he is at the beginning. The difference is that Beckett, the gold-star-gay boy, finally understands Jaxon’s dilemma, and has begun to appreciate how hard, and confusing, being bisexual can be for a teenager.

Throughout the book, the tone and the language are funny, sharp, and spot on. For all the dark stuff that hovers in the wings for these kids, they tackle their lives with snark, sass, and a pop-cultural awareness that defines the children of the social media age. Howard’s writing reminds us that even small-town southern kids are surprisingly worldly, even as he makes it clear that they’re still kids trying to figure out what their lives will mean.

Howard, a native South Carolinian, brings his personal truth into the depiction of his southern setting. He doesn’t dodge the deeply-rooted prejudices (either racial or sexual), that can be rooted in religion; but he also calls out the generosity of spirit and more evolved present-day mindset that exists in every part of this country. Howard reminds us that every red state has its blue citizens.