Besides the inauthentic mutterings that exposition masks itself in, besides the diary-like inclusion of every banal event in a teenager's life, besides the blatant attempts at deriving significance and literary depth out of every (hyperbole) little action, and even besides the sudden, unearned, and unresolved plot twists, Angela Pneuman's debut novel, Lay it on my Heart, is a decent read.
Lay it on my Heart is the story of a seemingly normal teenage girl, Charmaine Peake, who lives under abnormal circumstances. She resides in East Winder, a strongly religious town in Kentucky, though that's not the strange part. Her father, David, is a self-proclaimed prophet who has just returned, unwashed and fully bearded, from the holy land. He believes that ceaseless prayer and faith alone will provide, but that's not enough for Charmaine and her mother, who Charmaine addresses as Phoebe. Although they love their prophet, and Charmaine in some ways idolizes him, the mother and daughter must find their own way when David is admitted into a care facility for the mentally ill. During this time of separation, Charmaine struggles with the meaning of her faith and the lifestyle of ceaseless prayer. She struggles with empathizing with subjects of her disgust, of her curiosity, and of her desire. And, as a thirteen year-old who recently had her first period, she encounters uncertainty and insecurity as she discovers her sexuality. Pneuman's book is a coming of age story fit for the teenage girl who feels out of place.
However, you, dear reader, who has a palate for well-crafted sentences, who studies the likes of Tim O'Brien or Toni Morrison or Annie Dillard or Truman Capote; you, who enjoys expounding the intricacies of an allegory or a motif or a character's stunningly poignant development when pressured by a real world, might be more satisfied reading something else.
Let us begin with the dialogue. We can dismiss the uniformity of the characters' speech. Geographic proximity forms speech patterns. Many great writers recognize this and reflect that in their (still unique) characters. However, Angela Pneuman uses dialogue like a cheap wh—wait a minute, this is a review for a YA novel—thing in an attempt to insert facts about a situation that, apparently, Pneuman deemed appropriate to inject, out of context, into a conversation. Take, for example, this line: "'That's where all the churches are,' says the girl. 'Have you ever thought about growing your hair out?'" (85). Even the character is quick to change the subject, presumably embarrassed that such an obvious fact was said aloud.
Despite the exampled fact's relevance and importance to the plot, it wades in a sea of irrelevance. Pneuman's writing style mimics that of a teenage diarist. It is sometimes difficult, without hindsight, to distinguish between relevant information to the plot, or even the ambience of the scene, and filler.
Angela Pneuman possibly recognized this, to which she deserves some credit. However, her remedy was not to edit and to rewrite, but rather to add a litany of similes in the form of phrases beginning with 'as if.' Every character acts out common (and sometimes trivial) actions as if they are sending secret messages to the narrator. It is as if Pneuman couldn't write characters with enough complexity without blatantly telling the reader what she wants the characters to mean. It is as if 'as if' never becomes tedious. A critical reader understands tediousness after reading this book.
The structure of the plot lacks in urgency and tension. The reader follows almost every moment of Charmaine's life. More than a few times, part of a chapter is organized by time markers such as, "In first period...In second period...In third period." You get the idea. And within this mundane narrative, like clockwork, a shocking and unprecedented (and unearned on the part of the narration) event occurs. (I do not want to spoil the plot for you, dear reader, especially because plot is the one and only thing supporting this novel. Therefore, I will not detail what kinds of shocking and unprecedented events occur. I hope that you will trust my assessment.) These events attempt to drive the plot forward and to challenge the characters, but ultimately fail to reveal anything meaningful. Furthermore, one of these shockers remains entirely unresolved by the end of the book; the characters even respond to it like simulacra.
For its many shortcomings, Angela Pneuman's debut novel, Lay it on my Heart, redeems itself within the realm of Young Adult "literature," questionable quotations intended. Primarily, teenage girls, who typically ignore literary craft for plot, can still find the book relatable in some ways, which is all a misunderstood, angst-ridden teen really needs.