Slam by Nick Hornby

Sam is sixteen, a skater (he insists that it be made clear that this means skateboarding, not ice skating), and he lives in London with his mother. Things are going pretty well: he gets along with his mother just fine, he does well in school, and he’s giving the possibility of becoming the first member of his family to go to college some serious thought. But then he meets Alicia at a party. They start seeing each other, and Alicia becomes pregnant. And as much as Sam wishes this weren’t so, he knows that nothing can ever be the same again.

I should probably start by telling you that I started reading Slam in bed one night, meaning to read a chapter or two before turning off the lights, and next thing I knew it was 3am and I was done with the book. Having said that, this is still probably my least favourite Nick Hornby novel to date. But that’s really like saying “that’s my least favourite kind of cheesecake.” (Argh. Why do I have the feeling that I’ve used this bad analogy before? Please feel free to stop me anytime.)

In one of his “Stuff I’ve Been Reading” columns, when commenting on the abundance of novels you can find these days about writers and other highly educated and self-aware people, Nick Hornby wrote that he thought it was more of a challenge, and possibly more interesting, to write a novel that focused on someone who wasn’t quite as self-aware; someone who didn’t articulate their every thought and feeling with such ease.

This is certainly the case with Sam. Sam is a bright kid, but a kid nonetheless, and a lot of the time he not only doesn’t know what to do, but isn’t quite sure how he feels about things either. He makes mistakes, and he really can't explain why. He tells his story very effectively, and I applaud Hornby for his achievement. But unfortunately, I did find his voice a little strained at times, which is something I’d never felt with one of his novels before.

But this is a minor point, really. For the most part I loved Slam. I loved the plot, and the fact that it surprised me. Teen boy becomes a father seems pretty straightforward, doesn’t it? But I was pleasantly surprised to find some elements that can only be described as science fiction-y. And then there are things that are completely ridiculous from afar, only he manages not to make them so. For example, Sam’s hero is a skater named Tony Hawk, and he has the habit of confiding in a poster of his that he has on his bedroom wall. And sometimes, the poster talks back. I won’t tell you more (because yes, there is more), but believe me, it’s not silly. It’s funny, yes—but not silly.

There are a lot of things about Slam that are funny, as well as things that are serious and sad. As usual, Nick Hornby combines comedy and drama expertly. But my favourite thing of all is the fact that he writes about characters that are a little idiotic at times with such compassion, honesty, and even tenderness, that I have no choice but to love them. I never judge them: I embrace them, flaws and all. I cheer for them; I feel for them if things go wrong.

Slam is about learning how to make the best of less-than-ideal circumstances, and I really appreciated the fact that, like the first part last, it’s neither a cautionary tale about teen sex nor a celebration of teen parenthood. But then, I expected no less from Nick Hornby. It’s also not exclusively a book about teen pregnancy–there are other issues, namely class ones. Alicia’s family is better off than Sam’s. And furthermore, Sam’s mother also had him when she was sixteen. So at one point, Alicia’s father makes a remark along the lines of, “Don’t you people ever learn?” How this question is handled in the story goes beyond pointing out the obvious class prejudice and describing the conflict between the two families. More than that, we see Sam give the question of whether he’s doomed by his social circumstances some serious thought. We watch him consider the possible causes of what happened to him.

Knowing how humane and compassionate Hornby’s writing always is, the conclusion he reaches come as no surprise to me. He's clearly not someone who would preach social fatalism. But don’t expect a joyful “I can do anything!” ending either. Sam’s very real concerns are given the serious consideration they deserve.

Bits I liked:

Does this sound mad to you? It probably does, but I don’t care, really. Who doesn’t talk to someone in their heads? Who doesn’t talk to God, or a pet, or someone they love who has died, or maybe just to themselves? TH…He wasn’t me. But he was who I wanted to be, so that makes him the best version of myself, and that can’t be a bad thing, to have the best version of yourself standing there on a bedroom wall and watching you. It makes you feel as though you mustn’t let yourself down.

I don’t know. As far as people like Alicia’s parents are concerned, you’re a bad person if you don’t read and study, and as far as people like my dad are concerned, you’re a bad person if you do. It’s all mad, isn’t it? It’s not reading and whatever that makes you good or bad. It’s whether you rape people, or get addicted to crack and go out mugging. I don’t know why they all get themselves into such a stew.

It’s just that there comes a point where the facts don’t matter any more, and even though you know everything, you know nothing, because you don’t know what anything felt like. That’s the thing about stories, isn’t it? You can tell someone the facts in ten seconds, if you want to, but the facts are nothing.

They read it too: Book Gazing, Booking It, BookNAround, Adventures in Reading, bookshelves of doom, Rhinoa’s Ramblings, Out of the Blue, Shelf Love

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