I felt that if Chuck Palaniuk was less insane and Hemingway was more observant then what would their baby look like? I would think it would be less crude, but still daring and yet loved anti-materialism pontifications & well placed run on sentences. Okay, that isn't fair because Stefansson doesn't sound like anyone I've read before. He has his own voice and his own vision. He doesn't try too hard. He engages you, but he does so on his own terms which is really refreshing.
Writers should be allowed to work and create without objecting their art to specific demographics and research polls. They shouldn't be forced into a caged in category to better define the prospective profit margins. They shouldn't be dragooned into pushing out sequels by deadline to books that stand well right on their own.
That all said, being a teen is hard. It's like prison. For some its much more than others. You start to come into your identity but bam, you're locked into the role set for you by your parents and society. If you derail from that, you'll loose your yard time so you are forced to only passively rebel while in your cell and allocated onesies if you're aware of this fact soon enough. Most teens, although mounted with life altering responsibilites, can't see the world that clearly due to the lack of a fully functioning brain at this stage of life; the part of the brain that controls decision making and fighting temptation is still immature. This author is true to form. Andy is a young man on a path to self discovery or to self implosion. We are just here for the ride.
I should mention that I try to push aside any preconceptions I may have before reading any coming of age story. Oftentimes if a book is marketed a certain way there's all sorts of assumptions about the storyline that you can get really pissed off about if they don't deliver. Those misguided expectations can stop you from seeing what's really there which may or may not be an excellent story in its own right. Some of my now favorite authors would of been lost forever to me had my approach been too rigid. This book was saved from such a fate.
If someone tells me a book is the next Catcher in the Rye again I think I'm going to start doing drugs. This book is not Catcher in the Rye. It's not Perks of Being a Wallflower. It's not Youth in Revolt. Nor is it a high octane dystopia like Hunger Games or a narcissistic fantasy romance like Twilight. I read all sorts of genres, but this YA novel Paradise Squandered says things I was waiting to hear, but apparently had yet to realize were significant to other people too. It has detail that so many writers are just too lazy to implement or speculate teens are too dense to appreciate. These details do not take from the flow of the story and in fact enhance it ubiquitously.
But then, like expected of so many new writers, he hits the middle game, it gets tired and it all falls apart for me. There's a lack of traction and a sudden introduction to a whole new set of characters who even the protag himself doesn't want to get to know let alone describe in detest. You don't understand these new strange enemies nor do you sympathize with his plight now.
"Take A Deep Breath, Inhale Quickly, Exhale Slowly, and sometimes Sharply." What you soon realize is that our protag Andy spends a great deal of time focusing on his breathing & trying to think nice, happy thoughts while plummeting further and yet further into abysmal depression. His breath work seems to be his meager means of voicing any verbal rebellions of inward reflections. His amusing witty snarky opening verbal attacks slowly descend into stronger and stronger introverted cynicisms until the reader is choking & suffocating in his mental masturbations. Bummer man.
In a way Stefansson writes the way my husband plays chess. I should mention Chad is an excellent opponent. Chad's openings are unpredictable yet strong. They are also entertaining because of his long standing experience and expertise. He has a whole bag of tricks and delivers with strength and ease. This is someone who does this a lot just like I have no doubt that Stefansson is an avid writer. There's an air of confidence in not just the protagonist, but the writer himself. This self-security is felt in the novel just as its felt on the board with my husband. It commands you to wake up and pay attention. As the game unfolds into the middle game, my husband is patient with his moves. There is a formula to his design, it is calculated and this is when his strategy either rises up or falls apart. This depends entirely on him just as it depends on this writer's choice story. My ability to poke and pry to find holes in his line of defense is not an inevitability, but with the reader of Stefansson's novel it is just as unlikely to destroy his game entirely. As Chad's success usually relies on specific pieces remaining on the board same goes with Stefansson. If I exploit this unbalance, confidence is lost, depression sets in and I can dominate the endgame. With Stefansson he need only do it to himself. There is a necessary balance he screws with by swapping out his characters. Whether there is success or failure is really a matter of opinion. As with chess, if a game draws out too long, if it becomes depressed & detached, as I felt with this book, I long for closure.
The reader then realizes that these are not people, they are projections. This isn't a real story it's some guy's sad detached nightmare of an existence and because he is searching for substance how the hell could the story really have any? By the final three chapters I could feel the voice that originally pulled me and demanded my attention return but only long enough to proclaim abruptly, "The End."
Even with these issues I have with the story, it is still far better a novel than a great deal of the hogwash that graces store shelves. With the right editor and some time, Stefansson could really put out a story that would answer to these plug ups and give a less rushed sense of closure. I look forward to his next work.