Have you read the recent spate of headlines about stabbings and knife crime amongst teenagers and thought, as I have, ‘must have been a right trouble maker’? Have you thought the kids involved must be running wild, uncaring, socially disconnected, almost feral in their irresponsible behaviour? Who have you imagined behind the headlines, what hands wielded those knives and why?
The Knife That Killed Me by Anthony McGowan explores the timely and emotive subject of teens killing teens. I was lucky to review one of Anthony’s previous books, Henry Tumour for Chicklish and in that review I drew attention to the fantastic first line of “Arsecheese”. The Knife That Killed Me has surpassed this feat by having the best first chapter I’ve ever read. I won’t spoil it for you… it’s worth savouring. But there the comparison ends. Henry Tumour was hilarious, uplifting, witty and touching – the Knife That Killed Me is gripping, dark, violent and very, very serious. And it’s superbly written, a frenetic page turner with exhilaration on every page.
The ‘me’ in the title is Paul Varderman…
I am in a grey place now. It could be worse, as hells go. I always thought that hell would burn you, but here I’m cold.
They’ve told me to write it all out. Why it happened. Why I did it.
As Paul chronicles his journey, he keeps his eye on the knife which is doing the same. Each travelling inexorably towards the climax. The interjections reminding the reader that the knife is getting closer keeps the tension high and is a stark reminder of who the main character in this story really is. But the journey of the knife is also significant in that it adds to the spiralling nature of this book. Because to me, that’s exactly what it is. An action – reaction, a cause – effect, a what-if on the grandest scale.
There are a few rampaging nutter characters in this book. Roth, the main antagonist for instance…
It was almost funny how much he looked like a Stone-Age man – I mean, like a cartoon of one. You half expect to see him wearing animal furs and carrying a big wooden club, maybe dragging a mammoth behind him. His jaw stuck out and his head sloped back and his arms seemed to reach tight down to the ground.
He looked thick, but he wasn’t thick. He knew where you were weak, and would use it to hurt you.
And there’s a smattering of horrific teachers…
Mrs Eel taught French to the kids who weren’t very good at French, and I think that pissed her off.
Having found herself a victim, she would spend the entire lesson mauling him or her with a feline grace it was hard not to admire. And the worst thing was that she would draw the rest of us into it.
You learned pretty quick to be careful around her.
… she’d pick on someone for no reason at all, some pathetic loner, some harmless wisp of a boy, or a shy girl struggling to come to terms with her body, or a fat kid, or one raddled with acne.
And a few failing parents…
But I’m back in the kitchen now with Dad.
He started looking at me in a funny way. ‘What happened to your face?’ he said suspiciously. ‘Have you been fighting?’
I don’t think he would have minded much if I had said yes. In fact I think he would have loved it if I had been, and I’d made a joke of it saying, You should have seen the other guy, or something like that.
But the main cast are just ordinary kids… like your own, like your nieces and nephews, like your neighbours kids, like the paper boy… and this is by far the most frightening aspect of the book. This is not a book about night-crawler antics of gangs of streetwise violent children that you can size up in an instant and avoid. No, this is a book about mistakes, about lapses in judgement, about the failings of responsible role-models… in short, it’s about you and me. It’s about the reality of being an ordinary kid in today’s society, the pressures to fit in, to be normal, to be liked. Adults ignoring children, teachers victimising kids or at best being powerless to help.
The Knife That Killed Me is about how simple seemingly insignificant slip-ups by ordinary people can be catastrophic and it’s a timely reminder that every single human being has a responsibility to give a shit.
Fantastic , thought-provoking review, and the book sounds brilliant.
Been reading around the net about this now and it seems to have a lot of great reviews. It is certainly timely. Do you feel it provides any answers as well as questions? Or is that not what it’s about.
“The interjections reminding the reader that the knife is getting closer keeps the tension high and is a stark reminder of who the main character in this story really is.”
How does this work?
Thanks Luisa.
Hey Rosy. I don’t think it provides any answers, more of a mirror. Any teenager out there (or adult for that matter) who may be thinking that knife crime or the fallout from it isn’t their problem… might see something closer to home. I think it shows that it could happen to anyone, given the right or the wrong circumstances.
“The interjections reminding the reader that the knife is getting closer keeps the tension high and is a stark reminder of who the main character in this story really is.”
… sorry I read that back and realised it isn’t clear at all…
The beginning of the story is the end and he’s retelling what happened. There are tiny chapters only a paragraph or two long interspersed throughout the book which chart the progress of the knife towards its target. As Paul is writing the incidents leading up to the climax, he has slowed the knife down using Zeno’s Paradox (some physics formula where you keep halving the time and distance and everything slows down… but I can hardly get my brain round it!) and it inches forwards.
Is that any clearer…? I have a feeling it maybe isn’t!!!
Thanks for explaining what you meant about the knife, it’s a bit clearer now. Is the knife used as a metaphor for Fate?
This sounds like a powerful book about a disturbing subject and Paul doesn’t sound like a juvenille delinquent, which would make the reader care more about him.I had a teacher like Mrs. Eel, only her name was Miss Butters and she taught math. Can I mention I was never any good at math? What I mean to say is that I think a lot of people could relate to some of the stuff in this book, even if their own story turned out different.
The cover, though, made me back off from my monitor. Eeeeeek!
What a passionate review. Sounds pretty lacking in hope – did you feel depressed after it, Eve?
Superb review, Eve. And it couldn’t be better timed, could it?
Eve
Just wanted to say thanks for that thoughtful and perceptive review. It made my day!
The Zeno’s paradox thing is a bit of a headf**k. There’s an okay Wiki article about it, here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeno%27s_paradoxes#The_arrow_paradox
Depressing? Yes, I suppose it is, although the Freaks in the book, especially the Christlike Shane, do suggest the possibility of redemption.
In case anyone’s interested (and at the risk of disappearing completely up my own a**e), there are pretty frequent nods to various other books/texts, in particular, The Iliad, As I Lay Dying, Blood Meridian, and The Road, which gives a fairly clear indication of the general mood of the book. See, I warned you I was pretentious!
Anyway, thanks again, and keep up the good work – Vulpes is a really excellent site.
Tony
I think this book is of profound importance, both in terms of what it deals with and how it’s written. There was a thread discussion here a few weeks ago about the importance of good literature in the Young Adult field vs accessibility to Young Adult readers of all abilities. This book strikes that balance in a subtle and assured manner.
The reference points to the books Anthony mentions above are clear but don’t impinge on the text and the flow of the story. I felt that this book was more successful in absorbing its literary influences than Hellbent which used the Inferno to good but slightly alienating effect for less avid readers. I loved Hellbent but think this book is on a completely different level.
The use of Zeno’s paradox is really successful which acts as a narrative support that drives us towards the climax but also a way of articulating the horror at how a brief, split second misjudgement can destroy relationships, families, entire lives and knowing we can never return to that moment, we can only move slowly inexorably into the future and its consequences.
(Run! Surely this cloud of pretentiousness will consume us all!)
The book is readable, clear and accessible for most readers. It is bleak rather than depressing and displays far more humanity than any of the nauseating newspaper copy that has treated of this subject recently. It’s more clear-sighted about the plight of young people in the UK today than almost anything I’ve come across recently. It doesn’t take sides, it doesn’t preach, it doesn’t offer answers and it’s stronger because of it.
I loved “The Outsiders” by SE Hinton as a teenager and I feel that this book walks in its footsteps.
One very mild criticism would be that it tries to cover slightly too much ground in discussing issues and spreads itself a little thin on one or two of them. But that’s just me being picky!
Right, I’m reading it. I’ve decided. I don’t normally read a lot of young adult books but after what everyone’s said here and Clom’s last comment I’ve decided I want to read this one and also Ostrich Boys that Eve reviewed last weekend. I’ve been quite interested by the discussions lately on moments and consequence and violence in teen books so I want to see for myself. Although I also want to read Octavian Nothing after Trilby’s review. Oh heck.
Thanks so much for dropping by Anthony!
Just wanted to thank everyone who came along and commented and added in to Kids’ Week. Made it much more interactive and discussy. We’ll be reviewing many more children’s and teen books and maybe have another special designated children’s week again in the future. But for the moment -thanks, really appreciated.
Hello Jackie, Emily, Moira… thank you!
Oh wow, thank you for dropping by Tony (gosh not sure I can comfortably be so presumptuous… but I’ll try!). And thank you for explaining the Zeno thingy – it’s way beyond me but I believed every word of it
I have to say, I didn’t find it depressing – can’t get on with The Road at all, now that’s depressing! – I found it… honest, I think is the word. No bullsh*t, no patronising, no over-dramatising; just the facts ma’am. And kids will love that. All too often you can find “lessons to be learned” and moralising which kids can sniff out at a hundred paces.
Clom, as ever you have provided food for thought and added immensely to the review – thank you. And I too loved Hellbent, although some bits left me slightly nauseous (those were the bits my kids loved most of all and still remind me of occasionally – in a taunting kind of way!)
“It’s more clear-sighted about the plight of young people in the UK today than almost anything I’ve come across recently. It doesn’t take sides, it doesn’t preach, it doesn’t offer answers and it’s stronger because of it.”
I so agree with this, and so well put – it’s exactly the way I felt about the book when I put it down. Oh yes… The Outsiders *sigh* I completely agree.
Rosy, good on ya! Get those books, you won’t turn back.
Have added this one to my list. Enjoyed reading all the comments and after such a heartfelt review who could resist?
E.
This sounds like a wonderful, though-provoking book and your review has certainly done it justice, Eve.
Thanks everyone for the kind comments here. Clom, just a quick response to you final criticism about trying to cover too much ground. I had a think about this, and in one way you’re absolutely right. As well as the knife crime strand, the book deals with self harm, racism, and, er, ‘coming out’. Most of those are dealt with in a few paragraphs when really they needed a book to themselves. One of my editors made the same point. However, in my defense, each was relevant to one of the characters, and I felt I would be losing something by leaving them out. They weren’t stuck in as ‘ishoos’, but as fundamentals to the characterization. The trouble was that I couldn’t fully do them justice without making the book a lot longer, which would have undermined the lean and hungry feel of the thing. Writing (for me, at least) is often a matter of coming to terms with irreconcilables (if that’s a word), and working out the best compromise. I hope I’m getting better at it as I go along – feedback such as this certainly helps!
The book does feel lean and hungry!
The character self harming was where my small quibble came from. But as you say, it’s fundamental to the character rather than an issue for discussion in the book.
Maybe there’s a tendency to see every problem in YA novels as needing resolution rather than it being “just a bunch of stuff that happens”.
Really interesting review, Eve. Been meaning to comment on this for days.
Certainly a timely exploration of the issue. Sounds like the author has handled it very respectfully and responsibly.
I was particularly struck by this line:
“The Knife That Killed Me is about how simple seemingly insignificant slip-ups by ordinary people can be catastrophic”
I guess we all have done things in moments of madness, and maybe we don’t know what we’re capable of until we’re faced with something extreme. I’m relieved the book isn’t an Us and Them approach to the issue.
Also, lovely to have the author here to comment!