Ellen Wittlinger (1948–2022)

Wittlinger brings her two struggling zine-writing teens to life. John is a normal teenage guy. His emotions never come to the surface and when they seem to in his writing, he claims it wasn't his intention to seem emotional. Dealing with his parents' divorce and his father's desertion of him (on an emotional level) and his mother's desertion of him (on a physical level) have left him emotionally stunted and so indifferent about love that he can't rightly identify himself as straight or gay. show more The complete other side of the coin is Marisol, who identifies herself as a lesbian and seems completely comfortable in her own skin even before she graduates from high school. She's a straight shooter who abhors lying, even to one's own self. John, in an effort to escape his every day reality, can't seem to stop lying.

When Wittlinger brings these two characters together, fireworks go off. Soon John is sure that he is capable of love but has found an unfortunate target for all of the love and emotion he has kept inside since his parents' divorce. On the other hand, Marisol, while never doubting her sexuality, allows her wall of somewhat phony self-confidence to be penetrated by the bumbling John. The two become each other's best friend and worst enemy capable of hurting each other in a way they never thought possible. Wittlinger's development of these two characters is flawless.

Readers get a believable view into the psyche of an "average" teenage boy and all the hurt that lies therein. A few of the final scenes of the book moved me nearly to tears. As a teen book, Hard Love accomplishes what few that I've read recently do. It captures real issues without condescension and without slamming readers over the head with so much shocking bad language and behavior that it seems totally unsuitable to younger readers. I'm not faint of heart, and I was always allowed to read whatever I wanted once I hit my teenage years, but even I have to admit that I have been a tad blown away by what passes for "young adult" fiction now. This book breaks the mold. Highly recommended! show less

Painfully (and not always in the good way) earnest and at times laughably dated, I still admired Hard Love for its ambitions. From every pore, this book screamed 'Express yourself!' and strove to portray a warts-and-all look at teenage 'escape'.

John, a full-time high-school cynic, is incapable of expressing himself, be it to his divorced parents or his love-obsessed best friend. Until he discovers 'zines (basically paper and ink blogs for the creative set for all of us who can't remember the show more '90s) and one 'zine writer in particular, Marisol, who's an outspoken, identity-seeking, lesbian teen.

It's to Wittlinger's credit that the conflicts that arise from John and Marisol's tumultuous friendship are entrenched within their character traits and not resolved easily with plot cliches. The thing is, I'm not sure the characters aren't really very relatable to those of us who have grown past our rebellious navel-gazing phases.

Part of growing up is realizing not only the power of your own feelings, but also, ultimately, becoming less self-obsessed and moving on. I felt like the book while exploring the first part of that journey, failed to hold the characters to the responsibility of being accountable to their actions in the name of being true to the self.

And in the imbalanced narrative arc, I felt a little cheated by the unearned coming-of-age ending that failed to really explore the deeper questions of identity: Does packaging a 'you' cheapen its reality? We've all still have so much further to go (and so many more growing pangs to suffer). show less

This was an antidote to the romances I've been reading lately. John and Marisol meet and become friends: sharing a love of writing, and a certain loneliness. Their friendship has a great capacity for bringing joy and comfort, but an equal capacity for causing damage. When John falls in love with Marisol, a lesbian, their relationship can never go back to the way it was.

I was uncomfortable with John and Marisol's relationship, not because it was unrealistic, but because it was very realistic, show more and I could see disaster looming. I know it is the difficult relationships that be the most wonderful, but I was two busy anticipating the pain to be able to enjoy the way they helped each other open up to wider truths about themselves and about the world.
I'd give this to people looking for realistic fiction about friendship and relationships - especially for stories about children surviving divorce. show less

Sandpiper is about a teenage girl, dealing with her new step-family-to-be, her difficulties talking to her father and her reputation for being promiscuous.

The first thing I noticed about Sandpiper was the writing - it has a strong, unique voice - and the second thing was Sandpiper's poetry. Each chapter ends with one of her poems - which reflect on what she's going through, and often retell (parody?) other poems. I loved Piper's poetry. It's convincing as the poetry of an almost-16 year show more old, without being terrible Teen Angst "I am alone and no one understands my pain" poems.

Sandpiper is full of real complications, and genuine emotions, and conclusions which are not reached easily. I realise these are nebulous qualities I'm struggling to define and describe, but as I read this, I thought, Yes, yes, this is what I want from contemporary YA! I love how important Piper's relationships with her family are to the story, and I love Piper's growing friendship with 'Walker', an enigmatic teenage boy who walks around town and who is even more messed up than Piper is.

(And as far as "potential love interests" go, enigmatic is much more interesting defining characteristic than cute, any day...)

The Love Song of Piper H. Ragsdale
(with apologies to T.S. Eliot)

Let us go then, you and I,
When the morning mist is our ally,
And leave our parents, dead, divorced,
Or endlessly depressed, behind us.
Let us go with the intent
Of disallowing accidental blows
To make us life's no-shows.
I will not ask, 'Do you?'
It matters only that I do.

In the room where doctors come and go,
Talking of scars and vertigo. show less