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A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip: A Memoir of Seventh Grade
At age twelve, Kevin Brockmeier is ready to become a different not the boy he has always been—the one who cries too easily and laughs too easily, who lives in an otherland of sparkling daydreams and imaginary catastrophes—but someone else altogether.
Over the course of one school year—seventh grade—he sets out in search of himself. Along the way, he happens into his first kiss at a church party, struggles to understand why his old friends tease him at the lunch table, becomes the talk of the entire school thanks to his Halloween costume, and booby-traps his lunch to deter a thief.
With the same deep feeling and oddly dreamlike precision that are the hallmarks of his fiction, the acclaimed novelist now explores the dream of his own past and recovers the person he used to be.
Over the course of one school year—seventh grade—he sets out in search of himself. Along the way, he happens into his first kiss at a church party, struggles to understand why his old friends tease him at the lunch table, becomes the talk of the entire school thanks to his Halloween costume, and booby-traps his lunch to deter a thief.
With the same deep feeling and oddly dreamlike precision that are the hallmarks of his fiction, the acclaimed novelist now explores the dream of his own past and recovers the person he used to be.
208 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2014
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About the author
Kevin Brockmeier
40 books495 followersBorn and raised in Little Rock, Arkansas, Brockmeier received his MFA from the Iowa Writer's Workshop in 1997. His stories have been featured in The New Yorker, McSweeney's, Crazyhorse, and The Georgia Review. He is the recipient of an O. Henry Award, the Nelson Algren Award, and a National Endowment of the Arts grant.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 145 reviews
March 19, 2014
I had the pleasure of meeting author Kevin Brockmeier a couple summers ago, in the most idyllic setting imaginable for another literature loving native southerner. It was a literary cocktail party, nay a soirée, held in the shadow of William Faulkner’s home, Rowan Oak, in Oxford, MS. Sweaty fellow book fiends sipped mint juleps from clear plastic cups, nibbling snacks from little paper plates sagging in the humidity. It was hotter than hell; hot as June in Mississippi, which it was.
Author Tom Franklin was there, Jesmyn Ward wasn’t (she was a no-show; she called in sick). Also present was Susan Gregg Gilmore, a very sweet, pretty and feisty southern woman who writes sweet, feisty southern novels a la Fannie Flagg. Not my genre but the woman was an awful lot of fun at the book exchange held later. Her determination to snag the cookbook she wanted was downright vicious. I can respect that.
Two reps from Random House, Michael Kindness and Ann Kingman (their podcasts are hot stuff!), were the event facilitators. It was a mixer, a get-acquainted occasion setting the tone for a literary weekend in Oxford: a weekend of talks and book signings, book chats, eating far too much great food and shopping at the legendary Square Books. And again, shopping at the legendary Square Books. Good lord, did I shop at Square Books.
The next afternoon, Brockmeier was part of a panel of southern writers talking about what characterizes the fiction of the U.S. South, moderated by Ann Kingman and Michael Kindness. It’s a setting he knows well, having grown up in Arkansas and Mississippi, raised by his divorced parents: with his mother in Arkansas during the school year, in Mississippi with his father in the summer. This autobiography, while it is set in the South, does not rely on that. Rather, it’s the author’s own story of a boy’s life on the cusp of adolescence. It could have been set anywhere and been just as effective.
A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip starts with Kevin arriving back in Arkansas, reconnecting with his friends before school starts. They do the sorts of things boys do: hang out, throwing rocks at glass bottles; sleeping over at each other’s houses; eating junk food and watching TV. Despite the fun they had together, the time they’d spent apart over the summer had created a rift. The experiences his friends shared created new behaviors and “in” jokes, while Kevin stayed in the place they’d been over the previous school year. For him, time had stopped, freezing his friendships where he’d left them. Picking up again proved more difficult than he’d anticipated. Seventh grade was going to be very different.
When school starts, the rift widens. It starts with his friends giving him a hard time for making all the same old, tired jokes, then progresses to hostilities. Kevin goes about his life, pretty much a normal seventh grade kid able to dress out for gym faster than anyone else in the school, his sense of himself and his self esteem relatively high for a child shuttled back and forth between divorced parents. Not that he isn’t self aware, even occasionally fatalistic. He is at that pivotal age: 13. The time of life when things fluctuate quickly and often without warning. He can see early childhood behind him and high school in front. But for the most part, he manages to hang on to being a kid just a bit longer.
******
“Something washes through Kevin’s face. He would be willing to bet he is blushing, even if no one can tell. He sees his life as an endless series of but whys. Thad says you’re a liar. Kenneth isn’t speaking to you. Sarah will never kiss you again – it was only an accident of circumstance that she kissed you in the first place. It’s too late for you to become a different person. You’ll never be tall, and you’ll never be strong. You’ll always run fastest when no one is watching… Nothing you love is going to last. It’s impossible to rewind grades on their spool, impossible to pause them, impossible to replay the good parts.”
******
The man I met and observed in Oxford appeared reserved and quiet, not that a rambunctious, spirited kid in seventh grade can’t mature into a more serious man. If that were the case, the world would be full of overgrown adolescents. The book surprised me in that way. I was expecting to read the serious story of a quiet, introverted kid but while he was gangly and awkward, he was also social to the extent of any average kid his age. Maybe a bit more so, considering he had the gumption to write and act in a play he’d written, something a quiet child would never do (I, personally, would have rather died). What differentiates his childhood from the average is his imagination, the fact he was a kid who loved telling stories and read a lot. He’s resilient, funny and popular with a certain geeky group, plus girls and adults. The crumbling of the relationships with friends he’d had all his life hurt him but this kid wouldn’t allow defeat. Kevin Brockmeier had an awful lot of fortitude.
Putting further literary digging aside, the book is fun and funny, with a great depth. If you’ve read Brockmeier’s other books you’ll know he is a very serious, literary writer. His reputation is so strong, I was surprised he wrote an autobiographical book at all. Surprised and thrilled he’d let his guard down this much. How fun is it for a book nerd to get a glimpse into the youth of a favorite writer? I’ll tell you: outrageously fun. Crazy fun.
I enjoyed this book so much, appreciating what Brockmeier shared, even when the stories weren’t all that flattering or seemly, coming from a man with his credentials (SEE: Dressing as the only black kid in school, complete with makeup, in an ill-advised attempt to gain positive attention). While it could be read by someone looking for funny stories about a kid growing up in the South, its complexity and occasional forays into deeply introspective writing give it heft. Yes, there are some cringe-worthy moments most of us can identify with – to our shame – but overall it’s highly philosophical about the passage of childhood, not an “entertainment,” as such.
******
“Honestly, I just don’t want anything to change.”
“Me either,” says Thad.
“I’m sick of things being different all the time.”
“Me too.”
…
He turns onto his left side, his sleeping side, and lies there listening to the whoosh of the air conditioner. The day keeps coming to light again in bits and pieces … and the tingle of his sweat cooling in a humming rectangle of air, and who liked him and how much and why? One by one his thoughts flow from their outlines like a cloud, and then the cloud rolls over him and he is asleep.”
******
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I requested A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip from Amazon Vine for review but I knew it would be good. Turns out, it’s better than that: it’s great.
Author Tom Franklin was there, Jesmyn Ward wasn’t (she was a no-show; she called in sick). Also present was Susan Gregg Gilmore, a very sweet, pretty and feisty southern woman who writes sweet, feisty southern novels a la Fannie Flagg. Not my genre but the woman was an awful lot of fun at the book exchange held later. Her determination to snag the cookbook she wanted was downright vicious. I can respect that.
Two reps from Random House, Michael Kindness and Ann Kingman (their podcasts are hot stuff!), were the event facilitators. It was a mixer, a get-acquainted occasion setting the tone for a literary weekend in Oxford: a weekend of talks and book signings, book chats, eating far too much great food and shopping at the legendary Square Books. And again, shopping at the legendary Square Books. Good lord, did I shop at Square Books.
The next afternoon, Brockmeier was part of a panel of southern writers talking about what characterizes the fiction of the U.S. South, moderated by Ann Kingman and Michael Kindness. It’s a setting he knows well, having grown up in Arkansas and Mississippi, raised by his divorced parents: with his mother in Arkansas during the school year, in Mississippi with his father in the summer. This autobiography, while it is set in the South, does not rely on that. Rather, it’s the author’s own story of a boy’s life on the cusp of adolescence. It could have been set anywhere and been just as effective.
A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip starts with Kevin arriving back in Arkansas, reconnecting with his friends before school starts. They do the sorts of things boys do: hang out, throwing rocks at glass bottles; sleeping over at each other’s houses; eating junk food and watching TV. Despite the fun they had together, the time they’d spent apart over the summer had created a rift. The experiences his friends shared created new behaviors and “in” jokes, while Kevin stayed in the place they’d been over the previous school year. For him, time had stopped, freezing his friendships where he’d left them. Picking up again proved more difficult than he’d anticipated. Seventh grade was going to be very different.
When school starts, the rift widens. It starts with his friends giving him a hard time for making all the same old, tired jokes, then progresses to hostilities. Kevin goes about his life, pretty much a normal seventh grade kid able to dress out for gym faster than anyone else in the school, his sense of himself and his self esteem relatively high for a child shuttled back and forth between divorced parents. Not that he isn’t self aware, even occasionally fatalistic. He is at that pivotal age: 13. The time of life when things fluctuate quickly and often without warning. He can see early childhood behind him and high school in front. But for the most part, he manages to hang on to being a kid just a bit longer.
******
“Something washes through Kevin’s face. He would be willing to bet he is blushing, even if no one can tell. He sees his life as an endless series of but whys. Thad says you’re a liar. Kenneth isn’t speaking to you. Sarah will never kiss you again – it was only an accident of circumstance that she kissed you in the first place. It’s too late for you to become a different person. You’ll never be tall, and you’ll never be strong. You’ll always run fastest when no one is watching… Nothing you love is going to last. It’s impossible to rewind grades on their spool, impossible to pause them, impossible to replay the good parts.”
******
The man I met and observed in Oxford appeared reserved and quiet, not that a rambunctious, spirited kid in seventh grade can’t mature into a more serious man. If that were the case, the world would be full of overgrown adolescents. The book surprised me in that way. I was expecting to read the serious story of a quiet, introverted kid but while he was gangly and awkward, he was also social to the extent of any average kid his age. Maybe a bit more so, considering he had the gumption to write and act in a play he’d written, something a quiet child would never do (I, personally, would have rather died). What differentiates his childhood from the average is his imagination, the fact he was a kid who loved telling stories and read a lot. He’s resilient, funny and popular with a certain geeky group, plus girls and adults. The crumbling of the relationships with friends he’d had all his life hurt him but this kid wouldn’t allow defeat. Kevin Brockmeier had an awful lot of fortitude.
Putting further literary digging aside, the book is fun and funny, with a great depth. If you’ve read Brockmeier’s other books you’ll know he is a very serious, literary writer. His reputation is so strong, I was surprised he wrote an autobiographical book at all. Surprised and thrilled he’d let his guard down this much. How fun is it for a book nerd to get a glimpse into the youth of a favorite writer? I’ll tell you: outrageously fun. Crazy fun.
I enjoyed this book so much, appreciating what Brockmeier shared, even when the stories weren’t all that flattering or seemly, coming from a man with his credentials (SEE: Dressing as the only black kid in school, complete with makeup, in an ill-advised attempt to gain positive attention). While it could be read by someone looking for funny stories about a kid growing up in the South, its complexity and occasional forays into deeply introspective writing give it heft. Yes, there are some cringe-worthy moments most of us can identify with – to our shame – but overall it’s highly philosophical about the passage of childhood, not an “entertainment,” as such.
******
“Honestly, I just don’t want anything to change.”
“Me either,” says Thad.
“I’m sick of things being different all the time.”
“Me too.”
…
He turns onto his left side, his sleeping side, and lies there listening to the whoosh of the air conditioner. The day keeps coming to light again in bits and pieces … and the tingle of his sweat cooling in a humming rectangle of air, and who liked him and how much and why? One by one his thoughts flow from their outlines like a cloud, and then the cloud rolls over him and he is asleep.”
******
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I requested A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip from Amazon Vine for review but I knew it would be good. Turns out, it’s better than that: it’s great.
April 24, 2014
Since I prefer fiction over non-fiction, I haven't read a great deal of memoirs or autobiographies, but I have read my share. I can, however, unequivocally say that this is the only memoir I've ever read (or heard of) that is written from the third person point of view. Since memoirs place you right in the mind and heart of the narrator, a memoir in the third person isn't a memoir at all, which makes it a bit jarring and difficult to jump into.
I wanted to read this memoir because it had gotten stellar reviews, I was looking forward to seeing how his 7th grade compared to mine around the same time, and -- most of all -- I love the clever title. Unfortunately, a clever title does not a good book make. I felt like the memoir was a bit *too* authentic, meaning that it felt like it *was* written by a 7th grader, not just *about* a 7th grader. To me, it felt poorly written. It felt very disjointed with no cohesiveness within the chapters, the stories, or even sometimes from one paragraph to the next. The author (and 3rd person narrator) jumps all over the place with his thoughts like a boy riddled with ADHD. I wasn't even sure what he was trying to share with me.
Being that we were in the 7th grade around the same time and shared a lot of the same likes and dislikes, I wanted to relate to the book. I really did. In the end, though, A FEW SECONDS OF RADIANT FILMSTRIP is not only one of the inferior memoirs I've read, but it's also one of the most disappointing books I've ever read.
He writes, "Kevin is good with stories and always has been." Unless the author is talking about a different Kevin than himself, this book does not provide a decent example of that.
I wanted to read this memoir because it had gotten stellar reviews, I was looking forward to seeing how his 7th grade compared to mine around the same time, and -- most of all -- I love the clever title. Unfortunately, a clever title does not a good book make. I felt like the memoir was a bit *too* authentic, meaning that it felt like it *was* written by a 7th grader, not just *about* a 7th grader. To me, it felt poorly written. It felt very disjointed with no cohesiveness within the chapters, the stories, or even sometimes from one paragraph to the next. The author (and 3rd person narrator) jumps all over the place with his thoughts like a boy riddled with ADHD. I wasn't even sure what he was trying to share with me.
Being that we were in the 7th grade around the same time and shared a lot of the same likes and dislikes, I wanted to relate to the book. I really did. In the end, though, A FEW SECONDS OF RADIANT FILMSTRIP is not only one of the inferior memoirs I've read, but it's also one of the most disappointing books I've ever read.
He writes, "Kevin is good with stories and always has been." Unless the author is talking about a different Kevin than himself, this book does not provide a decent example of that.
February 6, 2015
Loved the idea of this (a memoir of seventh grade -- who among us couldn't write a sad one?), and was willing to tolerate the concept that it's a memoir written in the third-person, but this really just never got going and kept running out of gas as it went. A lot of it was just boring. There's got to be a way to harness the misery of seventh grade without verging into either "Wonder Years" or Judy Blume territory, but it's not here.
February 19, 2015
What an extraordinarily unique, moving memoir. He takes you back to his Seventh Grade experience. The language shines. The embarrassment cringes. Wow.
March 25, 2019
I know that successful memoirs don't deal with an entire life, but usually a small part or events tied together by a theme. Still, it's hard to believe that a whole book about a boy's seventh grade experience could be captivating. And yet this is. Partly because of Brockmeier's ability to capture every sensory detail of the experience in a way that made me feel I was right there with him, partly because of the change the boy undergoes, and partly because--this being Kevin Brockmeier, of the delightful surprise halfway through.
May 3, 2014
I reviewed this for the Rumpus and here is what I said:
A Brief History of the Dead describes a limbo inhabited by souls still remembered by the living. Only when the deceased have been completely forgotten do they pass to the next stage of the afterlife. In “The Ceiling,” a story in Things That Fall From the Sky, a marriage unravels as the sky lowers, inexorably, to the ground. In The Illumination, pain is visible. It radiates from its victims for all to see.
Kevin Brockmeier’s novels and stories are powered by brilliant, magical ideas. Some of them read as emotional allegories––preserving the memory of a lost loved one is a lot like keeping her spirit alive on an ethereal plane, and a sky that is literally falling is a pretty direct metaphor for a failing marriage’s claustrophobic despair. Others are more mysterious. In the title story in Things That Fall From the Sky, a slightly out-of-touch librarian returns the friendly gestures of a stranger who tells her wild, impossible stories. Blood, live frogs, and fish raining from the sky. “Real wrath of God type stuff,” as Ray Stantz says in Ghostbusters.
So you might approach A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip, Brockmeier’s memoir of his seventh-grade year in Little Rock, Arkansas, wondering how he will handle a story from so-called real life . . . and . . . and . . . if you are fascinated by this review you can read the full thing here.
A Brief History of the Dead describes a limbo inhabited by souls still remembered by the living. Only when the deceased have been completely forgotten do they pass to the next stage of the afterlife. In “The Ceiling,” a story in Things That Fall From the Sky, a marriage unravels as the sky lowers, inexorably, to the ground. In The Illumination, pain is visible. It radiates from its victims for all to see.
Kevin Brockmeier’s novels and stories are powered by brilliant, magical ideas. Some of them read as emotional allegories––preserving the memory of a lost loved one is a lot like keeping her spirit alive on an ethereal plane, and a sky that is literally falling is a pretty direct metaphor for a failing marriage’s claustrophobic despair. Others are more mysterious. In the title story in Things That Fall From the Sky, a slightly out-of-touch librarian returns the friendly gestures of a stranger who tells her wild, impossible stories. Blood, live frogs, and fish raining from the sky. “Real wrath of God type stuff,” as Ray Stantz says in Ghostbusters.
So you might approach A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip, Brockmeier’s memoir of his seventh-grade year in Little Rock, Arkansas, wondering how he will handle a story from so-called real life . . . and . . . and . . . if you are fascinated by this review you can read the full thing here.
June 23, 2015
I was skeptical at first as I thought I might have picked up a young adult memoir, but I quickly realized that was the wrong approach. But then I thought maybe Brockmeier was trying to capitalize on 80s/90s nostalgia by specifically listing beloved and bygone products that would resonate with those who grew up during that time. Again, I had the wrong approach to the book. Halfway through, I was hooked and laughing out loud at Brockmeier's ability to adequately capture what it was like to be a 7th grade nerdy kid in the South. He documents the confusion of sex and the understanding of what is cool and what is not cool and why. And he pays particular mind to the rhythm of the words he's written, which is why I would recommend the audio book.
August 11, 2016
Hopeful and tender, this is Kevin Brockmeier at his most real and heartbreaking. Be warned, if you had a complex middle- or high-school experience (and who didn't?), this book will dredge up ALL THE FEELINGS.
July 21, 2015
Dear Mr. Brockmeier,
I commend you on your thoroughly ordinary young adolescent experience. I somewhat regret my realization that I do not care.
Affectionately yours,
JDG
Buy this title from Powell's Books.
I commend you on your thoroughly ordinary young adolescent experience. I somewhat regret my realization that I do not care.
Affectionately yours,
JDG
Buy this title from Powell's Books.
January 11, 2015
Piercing in its ability to recreate the feeling of seventh grade, if not my actual experience. And the hard cover itself is delicious!
April 3, 2014
Five adjectives to describe this book: Hilarious, moving, weird, endearing, awesome-beyond-all-adjectives.
July 30, 2021
In this impressionistic memoir, Kevin Brockmeier reflects on the awkward changes that come with seventh grade, from the excruciating coming into self-awareness, to the intensified romantic obsessions, to the painful realignment of friendships that tends to happen around this age. For poor Kevin, all this awkwardness was exacerbated by his sensitive spirit, his creative streak, and a few genuine dickheads for classmates at his private Christian junior high/high school. Not that Kevin is an angel. He demonstrates some truly awful judgment throughout the narrative, notably the time when he and a classmate planned to lip-sync "Hot for Teacher" next to a tarted-up cardboard cutout of their beloved English teacher, Miss Vincent.
I picked this up based on the strength of Brockmeier's phenomenal short story, "A Fable With Slips of White Paper Spilling from the Pockets," which I happened to catch on the Levar Burton Reads podcast. I loved this just as much--for the poetic writing, the authenticity, and my growing feeling of connection to seventh-grade Kevin as a kindred dreamy/dorky spirit. The pop culture references to Columbia House record/cassette club, Capri Suns, Prince, and Billy Joel also resonated with me. I'm guessing Brockmeier and I must be close in age. In any case, I really enjoyed this memoir, but it's probably most appealing for those of us who share that fondness for eighties nostalgia. Oh, and if you happened to be traumatized by your own experiences in seventh grade, I'd give this book a wide berth.
I picked this up based on the strength of Brockmeier's phenomenal short story, "A Fable With Slips of White Paper Spilling from the Pockets," which I happened to catch on the Levar Burton Reads podcast. I loved this just as much--for the poetic writing, the authenticity, and my growing feeling of connection to seventh-grade Kevin as a kindred dreamy/dorky spirit. The pop culture references to Columbia House record/cassette club, Capri Suns, Prince, and Billy Joel also resonated with me. I'm guessing Brockmeier and I must be close in age. In any case, I really enjoyed this memoir, but it's probably most appealing for those of us who share that fondness for eighties nostalgia. Oh, and if you happened to be traumatized by your own experiences in seventh grade, I'd give this book a wide berth.
May 17, 2014
I think I might have been able to like this book more if it was more fictionalized or if it was more of a straight memoir. I'm not sure it works as well trying to function as both at the same time. While I was in middle school a decade later and one state over, there were still a lot of little details that were familiar to me and made it relevant for me and gave me that sort of wistful nostalgic feeling that reading a memoir or coming of age novel should. There were some really amazing lines and situations that just feel so true and meaningful that it was hard not to just shout "Yes! That is exactly the way I feel about that." before I realized that everyone else on the bus would give me weird looks. So it isn't terrible or poorly written in the least, it just isn't entirely successful as a whole to me.
The pivotal plot scene, involving a moment where an older version of Kevin is able to sort of time travel or stop time and give a Kevin a glimpse of what kind of growth he will go through to become his future self was one of the most interesting moments of the book. Unfortunately, none of that actual development or the reflection of how it comes about happens in this story. We learn who 7th grade Kevin is, but his family is barely described and many of the other characters at school get described only by 5 adjectives in a sort of running joke throughout the book. This tactic would have worked fine if the story were told in the first person, since as a reader we don't expect that the narrator would have known much about his teachers and peers and just having the basic impression of them would have been enough. Giving the story a narrator outside of Kevin's head raised the expectation of there being more of an opportunity for some kind of exposition or detail about the other characters. The lack of even some basic details of Kevin's family is what I found the most bizarre. A story from your seventh grade year lacking lots of detail about the lives or the perspective of your teachers and students is understandable. A story where the basic structure of your family is mysteriously unexamined and your closest relatives that you live with get barely more mention than the family cat with almost no examination of their motives or behavior or the effect on you feels hollow or untrue somehow. There was so little description of himself or family that I actually wasn't sure what race Kevin was until the Blackface incident. It could have been an error on my part as I tend to read fast and perhaps missed a key word that would have made it obvious earlier on, but in forgetting that 7th grade boys will use gross and rude terms towards anyone regardless of it would apply by definition, I actually read a significant portion of the book thinking that he was being called racial slurs and was so isolated and made fun of in part because he wasn't white and not just because he was a weird, sensitive kid.
So, overall it was just ok. As a straight up memoir, with a bit more introspection and personal reflection that followed Kevin through some of the major developments that get glossed over here in a flash forward of sorts, it could have rivaled one of my all time favorites Perks of Being a Wallflower. As an SF novel about being able to time travel back to the worst moment of your life and try to convince yourself whether to exist or not, it would have been one of the most original and captivating book I have read in a long time.
The pivotal plot scene, involving a moment where an older version of Kevin is able to sort of time travel or stop time and give a Kevin a glimpse of what kind of growth he will go through to become his future self was one of the most interesting moments of the book. Unfortunately, none of that actual development or the reflection of how it comes about happens in this story. We learn who 7th grade Kevin is, but his family is barely described and many of the other characters at school get described only by 5 adjectives in a sort of running joke throughout the book. This tactic would have worked fine if the story were told in the first person, since as a reader we don't expect that the narrator would have known much about his teachers and peers and just having the basic impression of them would have been enough. Giving the story a narrator outside of Kevin's head raised the expectation of there being more of an opportunity for some kind of exposition or detail about the other characters. The lack of even some basic details of Kevin's family is what I found the most bizarre. A story from your seventh grade year lacking lots of detail about the lives or the perspective of your teachers and students is understandable. A story where the basic structure of your family is mysteriously unexamined and your closest relatives that you live with get barely more mention than the family cat with almost no examination of their motives or behavior or the effect on you feels hollow or untrue somehow. There was so little description of himself or family that I actually wasn't sure what race Kevin was until the Blackface incident. It could have been an error on my part as I tend to read fast and perhaps missed a key word that would have made it obvious earlier on, but in forgetting that 7th grade boys will use gross and rude terms towards anyone regardless of it would apply by definition, I actually read a significant portion of the book thinking that he was being called racial slurs and was so isolated and made fun of in part because he wasn't white and not just because he was a weird, sensitive kid.
So, overall it was just ok. As a straight up memoir, with a bit more introspection and personal reflection that followed Kevin through some of the major developments that get glossed over here in a flash forward of sorts, it could have rivaled one of my all time favorites Perks of Being a Wallflower. As an SF novel about being able to time travel back to the worst moment of your life and try to convince yourself whether to exist or not, it would have been one of the most original and captivating book I have read in a long time.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 19, 2017
I have a theory about Ben Stiller films. You either like the films where he plays an everyman foil or you like the films where he plays a wildly outrageous character. You could probably like both too, but my point for purpose here is: I like the outrageous character pieces and have great difficulty with the films where he is an everyman who is constantly getting beat up in more dynamically unsettling ways. (Meet the Parents, for example) In those stories I tend to associate myself with Ben’s character and I always feel he’s getting unfairly treated by the other characters and life in general and I end up feeling pretty negative about the whole film.
This theory came into play in my reading of Kevin Brockmeier here. This book is a really visceral and profound memoir, but so many times I felt myself thinking, “Please don’t do that.” Or “Why would you make that choice!?” It’s written so well that you feel akin to all the waves of joy and disgust Kevin is fraught with. I just couldn’t get past my negative feelings of association with him and that’s likely a testament to the hyper-realistic retelling of the stress of his seventh grade experience. A nice bonus is some clever steps away from that traditional reality allowing me to consider the memory more deeply and probably connects with my earlier Ben Stiller metaphor of like and dislike as well. You should read it to reminisce, but be prepared- your melancholy past is likely to be present here too.
This theory came into play in my reading of Kevin Brockmeier here. This book is a really visceral and profound memoir, but so many times I felt myself thinking, “Please don’t do that.” Or “Why would you make that choice!?” It’s written so well that you feel akin to all the waves of joy and disgust Kevin is fraught with. I just couldn’t get past my negative feelings of association with him and that’s likely a testament to the hyper-realistic retelling of the stress of his seventh grade experience. A nice bonus is some clever steps away from that traditional reality allowing me to consider the memory more deeply and probably connects with my earlier Ben Stiller metaphor of like and dislike as well. You should read it to reminisce, but be prepared- your melancholy past is likely to be present here too.
December 28, 2014
Wow, did I enjoy this book. I so admire Kevin Brockmeier's writing, and when I heard he'd written a memoir with some magic realism thrown in, I was down to read it. I was shocked/amazed when I began the book to find that he's violated another huge "rule" of memoir writing -- he's written it in very close limited third-person point of view. But quickly I fell into the rhythm of it. I adored the language, the details, and the non-judgmental delivery of what happened that year that this narrative technique permits.
The book has a natural arc -- first day of seventh grade through last day of seventh grade -- so I always knew where I was going. It is so difficult at times, in memoir, to establish a resolution, because life doesn't usually wrap up with a specific conclusion, especially one year of life thirty years ago. But for me, Brockmeier resolves the major tensions of the story satisfyingly enough. For me, also, the magic device itself provides some closer, even coming mid-book as it does.
I expected an interesting, absorbing, and convincing read from Brockmeier, and I wasn't disappointed. (As an added bonus, the book design is so stellar, I do not want to stop touching it. The cover resembles the cover of reading schoolbooks from the 1980s. Love, love, love.)
The book has a natural arc -- first day of seventh grade through last day of seventh grade -- so I always knew where I was going. It is so difficult at times, in memoir, to establish a resolution, because life doesn't usually wrap up with a specific conclusion, especially one year of life thirty years ago. But for me, Brockmeier resolves the major tensions of the story satisfyingly enough. For me, also, the magic device itself provides some closer, even coming mid-book as it does.
I expected an interesting, absorbing, and convincing read from Brockmeier, and I wasn't disappointed. (As an added bonus, the book design is so stellar, I do not want to stop touching it. The cover resembles the cover of reading schoolbooks from the 1980s. Love, love, love.)
September 12, 2016
Continuing on my somewhat accidental theme of trying to understand the psyches of early teenaged boys better (I wonder why...), I was intrigued to read a personal memoir by an accomplished novelist written in the third person, like a novel. Young Kevin as hero deals with previous best friends turning against him in overtly cruel ways, having his sense of humour and popular culture icons (things that most identify him as him) mocked, and setting himself up for embarrassment by innocently dressing as Dolly Parton for Halloween and in blackface as the high school basketball hero for another occasion. The compassion shown by his English teacher redeems humanity for us all, and she gets a special shout out in the foreword. Anyone who has tried to keep up with the cool kids and wondered what the heck happened when they were suddenly running away to avoid you will relate to this book. (In my own case, I'm still wondering, 36 years later.) The fantasy "ghost of what might be" part does a good job of emphasizing the "things get better" theme, showing young Kevin what his later teens and adult life will be like after this crisis passes.
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June 23, 2014This is one of those books where you find yourself marveling pretty much on every page at the author's use of language. Here's an example, choosing completely at random: "Percy changes course, snapping the treats up, then harvesting the spice from Kevin's fingers with his tongue. Kevin scratches his brow, that funny flat spot where it looks as if styling gel has been combed through his fur. He is a long silver muffler of an animal..."
As a writer, you have to marvel at the cadence of the sentences, the words chosen--words which feel like the exactly right words: "harvested," "muffler." Reading this book is a treat for anyone who is attuned to language.
The subject matter is terrific, too: the investigation of how friendships change, as if in the blink of an eye, between 6th and 7th grade. I was moved to a profound sadness for Kevin, whose best friends turn on him and torment him. The wonderful knowledge of the ending, however, is that Kevin became the writer of these gorgeous sentences that grew into this touching, thoughtful, honest book.
As a writer, you have to marvel at the cadence of the sentences, the words chosen--words which feel like the exactly right words: "harvested," "muffler." Reading this book is a treat for anyone who is attuned to language.
The subject matter is terrific, too: the investigation of how friendships change, as if in the blink of an eye, between 6th and 7th grade. I was moved to a profound sadness for Kevin, whose best friends turn on him and torment him. The wonderful knowledge of the ending, however, is that Kevin became the writer of these gorgeous sentences that grew into this touching, thoughtful, honest book.
May 31, 2014
I am not far removed from Kevin in age or geography, so let me start by saying the detail he achieves is astounding. Proustian rushes stacked up on every page. Remembering so much ephemera, once beloved and now retrieved from oblivion, underlines Kevin's feelings that this year of transition has robbed him of all stability.
My problem is with the larger arc. There is a terrific start that had me thinking how great it would be to make the (slim) memoir cover JUST that first discombobulating day. There is a mid-book triumph which leads to an excruciating betrayal. This is the high-point of the book and everything that follows lacks the heft and inventiveness of that. The rest is a slow and sustained rebuilding of all those severed bonds. It is a commendable work of memory, but as a narrative, the pacing does not work for me. After that inventive climax, the rebuilding just feels too forgetable.
My problem is with the larger arc. There is a terrific start that had me thinking how great it would be to make the (slim) memoir cover JUST that first discombobulating day. There is a mid-book triumph which leads to an excruciating betrayal. This is the high-point of the book and everything that follows lacks the heft and inventiveness of that. The rest is a slow and sustained rebuilding of all those severed bonds. It is a commendable work of memory, but as a narrative, the pacing does not work for me. After that inventive climax, the rebuilding just feels too forgetable.
May 30, 2014
I was really looking forward to reading this book, and it was decently written. I just did not find it to be gripping at all, none of the characters--including Kevin--are very developed, and there is really no plot. I did not particularly enjoy seventh grade, I can relate to the awkward, uneasiness that Kevin experiences. But, if I am going to read about a boy's junior high journey, I think I would rather read Adam Levin's 1000 page phone book, The Instructions. Also, this is a memoir, but how does Brockmeier remember enough of seventh grade to produce such a detailed memoir?
January 20, 2015
My first book of 2015. I picked this little gem up on a lark at the public library. I'm a sucker for anything that reminds me/takes me back to my childhood/adolescent. The book is a memoir of the authors 7th grade year. Although it takes place in 1985, approx. 10 years after my 7th grade year, it was was timeless in its portrayal of the highs/lows of early teenage-hood, the sense of wonderment, fitting in and all the rest. It was a quick easy read and I can't say how much I love this little book.
April 9, 2014
Brockmeier has crafted an intimate, all too evocative memoir that focuses entirely on his seventh grade year, 1985-86, in Little Rock, Arkansas. He writes in the present tense, from a third person perspective which lends immediacy, intensity, and just the right amount of distance, capturing all of the thrills, uncertainty, anxiety and why-did-I-do-thats of adolescence. His recollections of the mid 1980s junior high zeitgeist are spot-on.
May 24, 2014
I met Kevin Brockmeier in 2012 at the Oxford Booktopia. It was apparent early on that he is a very likeable yet very quirky author. A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip nicely explains the origins of his quirkiness. This is a very clutch worthy book! I gave my copy away at Booktopia Boulder, but will be eager to obtain a second copy - hopefully signed...
May 24, 2016
I read memoirs; I love them. This one, however, was lackluster at best. Quick question: Would Sheila have a better feeling about this book if Kevin had simply written it in 1st person like most of the other people in the world do when they write memoirs or would Sheila have still been annoyed that Kevin's story was just not quite up to Sheila's reading standards?
May 2, 2014
Love this. At once hilarious and cringe-inducing.
Seventh grade was actually a good year for me, but it was still excruciating. It just is. The victories and humiliations - it's all here, just as I remember it.
Seventh grade was actually a good year for me, but it was still excruciating. It just is. The victories and humiliations - it's all here, just as I remember it.
October 14, 2018
Not to my liking. I was confused by the third-person narration of this memoir. I was also confused by how much the author supposedly remembers about his seventh grade experience. Did he keep a journal back then? Did he fill in the blanks by perusing the yearbook and name-checking as applicable? It’s almost as if this book was written for the author’s friends from that time, as if to say “here’s how it looked from my perspective.”
And even though the narration is third-person, we spend a lot of time stuck inside Kevin's head. I'm sure some can relate to his insecurities, with his bouts of bravado sprinkled in, as a seventh-grade boy. I just wasn't the emotional type that Kevin was at that age (nor am I now). And I guess my mind is just quieter, or less imaginative.
One of the few sentiments to which I could relate:
“Kevin is good at quizzes, good at school. He has the instinct for learning exactly what he needs to know, then casting it aside to learn something else. He can feel himself forgetting the words of the memory verse almost as soon as they leave his pencil. Everything sinks like a rain shower into the soil.”
And even though the narration is third-person, we spend a lot of time stuck inside Kevin's head. I'm sure some can relate to his insecurities, with his bouts of bravado sprinkled in, as a seventh-grade boy. I just wasn't the emotional type that Kevin was at that age (nor am I now). And I guess my mind is just quieter, or less imaginative.
One of the few sentiments to which I could relate:
“Kevin is good at quizzes, good at school. He has the instinct for learning exactly what he needs to know, then casting it aside to learn something else. He can feel himself forgetting the words of the memory verse almost as soon as they leave his pencil. Everything sinks like a rain shower into the soil.”
November 8, 2021
I was fortunate enough to have an engaging conversation with the author, Kevin Brockmeier, who told me I might enjoy this book because I grew up in Little Rock and knew the school he attended in 7th grade--the subject of this memoir, as the title indicates.
Who wants to go back to 7th grade? Certainly not I! But this poignant work sent me back to the pains of the transitions from elementary to middle school or junior high. I was moved by the insights Brockmeier poured onto the page about his will to survive and the power of the imagination.
Of course, it was fun to recall Mazzio's Pizza, Breckenridge Village, Osco Drug, and B. Dalton Books at Park Plaza as well.
I picked up Brockmeier's The Illumination, too, and look forward to what I understand will be more poignancy.
Who wants to go back to 7th grade? Certainly not I! But this poignant work sent me back to the pains of the transitions from elementary to middle school or junior high. I was moved by the insights Brockmeier poured onto the page about his will to survive and the power of the imagination.
Of course, it was fun to recall Mazzio's Pizza, Breckenridge Village, Osco Drug, and B. Dalton Books at Park Plaza as well.
I picked up Brockmeier's The Illumination, too, and look forward to what I understand will be more poignancy.
September 15, 2022
Confession: I went to the same school as the author. I walked the same halls, kept books in the same lockers. So some of my fondness for the book is nostalgia, even though I desperately didn’t want to attend the school from grades 10-12. It was small, it was parochial, it was a kind of straitjacket for me.
However, the narrative reminded me it wasn’t all bad, and through the deft, tender recollections he wrote, I was able to unearth some things for myself that I had dismissed callously in my younger years. As a secular Buddhist, I see now that what I wanted to forget is ineluctable and part of me. I can’t reject or forget these foundational years, no matter how vexing I found them. And it taught me something then and even now, about what I can endure, handle, and turn to my advantage … or dismiss out of hand. So thanks, CAC, I knew you from your birth and almost mine, and while familiarity bred contempt (at the time), it’s mellowed to bland appreciation. Thanks to Kevin Brockmeier for capturing a lot of the good, bad, and ugly, and still making the sad bits sparkle.
However, the narrative reminded me it wasn’t all bad, and through the deft, tender recollections he wrote, I was able to unearth some things for myself that I had dismissed callously in my younger years. As a secular Buddhist, I see now that what I wanted to forget is ineluctable and part of me. I can’t reject or forget these foundational years, no matter how vexing I found them. And it taught me something then and even now, about what I can endure, handle, and turn to my advantage … or dismiss out of hand. So thanks, CAC, I knew you from your birth and almost mine, and while familiarity bred contempt (at the time), it’s mellowed to bland appreciation. Thanks to Kevin Brockmeier for capturing a lot of the good, bad, and ugly, and still making the sad bits sparkle.
March 10, 2019
Had a bit of a love-hate relationship with this memoir of the author as a seventh-grader. The author writing in the third person about his experiences felt a little weird to me. But then those experiences were so dead-on accurate to many seventh-grade boys (like me 1,000 years ago) about their feelings, their friendships (and how those can change on a dime), their bodies (compared to other boys), their feelings about girls and their wanting to seem smart (but at the same time one of the guys). Then, in the middle, when he chooses to tell on some bullies, he goes into a dream sequence that seems more like an acid trip. For the things I wasn’t wild about, I probably would give the book more like 3 1/2 stars rather than four, but with this rating system it is not possible.
October 22, 2024
I've been curious about this book for a while -- a memoir written in third person! -- and I finally had the space to read it this past week. I found it very sad, often beautiful, and evocative in its precise details of the 1980s and being in 7th grade, which is such a transition year for a lot of people. I especially love this fantastical middle section, which is written with a great amount of creativity and compassion. The end of the book left me feeling hopeful, and appreciative of the strength and honesty of Brockmeier's writing, and also awestruck that any of us survived 7th grade.
I listened to the audiobook, which is excellent.
I think this book would be good for someone openminded to the memoir form, and especially great for anyone who grew up in the 1980s.
I listened to the audiobook, which is excellent.
I think this book would be good for someone openminded to the memoir form, and especially great for anyone who grew up in the 1980s.
January 21, 2018
I actually bought this book for someone else but ended up reading it when I was stuck home with the flu. It was a bit hard to relate to a memoir about the author's 7th grade year. Girls are so much different boys in terms of their relationships and maturity at that age. However, the author does an excellent job of describing the ins and outs of his own friendships and how cruel kids can be. His writing is excellent and he was able to convey his story using every sense. It is not surprising that he turned out to be a writer of young adult fiction. He wrote this memoir like a small novel--an interesting approach.
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