Five things you may not know about me:

1. My favorite song is the Doctor Who theme song.
2. I don’t think I look like any celebrities (not with this face, ha) but my dad once resembled a young Peter Ustinov.
3. I pronounce “sorry” and “borrow” with a long o sound.
4. I don’t think I’ve ever believed in an afterlife, even as a practicing Catholic.
5. I sincerely hope the fact that I feel casually about death doesn’t make me sound callous in this review.

Sally Nicholls.  Ways to Live Forever.  Arthur A. Levine Books, 2008.  207 pages.  Age 9 to 12.

This book does not prevaricate about what you’re in for.  From the second page we learn that Sam has leukemia and is going to die; in fact, he probably has died already.  Coupled with its bland, subdued cover, I’ve got my work cut out for me if I want to convince you that this is a must-read book.

Well, it is.

Ok, plot summary—check.  Kid has leukemia, dies.  (Tell me that’s not a spoiler.)  But in the three months before he kicks it, he decides to write about it.  Sam describes his book as “a collection of lists, stories, pictures, questions, and facts.”  He had me at lists.  (And that’s why I opened with one, to justify what must have seemed completely random.)

Sam’s story is both humorous and contemplative, and often concurrently.  His best friend, Felix, who also has leukemia, does not concern himself with issues requiring contemplation.  Felix has figured out that his life has practically no consequences—everyone feels too sorry for him to impose any short-term consequences, and he’s not going to live long enough to face long-term consequences.  It doesn’t make him predictably obnoxious or selfish; instead, it gives him a sense of freedom to accomplish whatever pops into his head.  The two are hardly opposites, though.  Observe the Sam-Felix dynamic:

Questions Nobody Answers #2 – Why does God make kids get ill? [proposed solutions]

1. He doesn’t exist.  (Felix)
2. God is really evil.  (Felix)
3. God is like a big doctor. . . . It doesn’t matter to God if you die, because you just go to heaven, which is where He lives anyway.  (Sam, to which Felix responds, “That . . . is the biggest load of crap I ever heard.  God gives you cancer to teach you how good riding a bike is?)
4. There is no reason. (Felix)
5. There is a reason, but we’re too stupid to understand it. (Sam)
6. We did something awful in the past life and this is punishment. (Felix, who insisted it be included as not to discriminate against Buddhists)
7. We’re perfect already. . . . Being ill is like a present.  Like…like a Get-Into-Heaven-Free Card. (Sam)

Toward the end of the novel, after considering the many possibilities, Sam starts putting together answers.  In trying to explain the nature of death, his grandmother feeds him an analogy about caterpillars and butterflies, about how if caterpillars were afraid of their cocoons, they’d never make it to the next step.  Sam’s response?

“What she means is, it’s the next stage in a life cycle.  Like turning into Spider-Man was the next stage in Peter Parker’s life cycle.  So you shouldn’t be frightened, you should be excited.  But I’m not frightened anyway.  It’s only going back to wherever you were before you were born and no one is frightened of before they were born.”

As for audience, this probably isn’t a book for a child who is actually dying.  First of all, the last thing a dying kid needs is to read about another kid who is dying.  Second, we don’t want the real-life child to think he or she is not dying well enough.  Not many terminal illnesses are novel-worthy.  There are other ways to introduce them to the “big questions.” I would, however, recommend this to just about anyone 9+, including adults.  The second page will weed out those who’d rather not touch the subject matter.

[ Posted in » Book Review Channel :: Fiction Reviews ]