Fiction, or nonfiction? Paperboy, Vince Vawter's debut novel, certainly has elements of both. Set in 1959 Memphis, Tennessee, the story is that of an eleven-year-old struggling to express himself in a world that often disregards him because of his severe stutter. His speech therapist has suggested a few simple tricks to overcome the mental blockage when he stutters, but the boy has tried to limit his exposure to strangers; that is, until the summer he agrees to take over his friend Rat's paper route while Rat is vacationing with cousins for a month. Chucking newspapers onto porches doesn't demand much social interaction, but the boy dreads the end of each week, when he'll be expected to collect payment from customers on his route. What if he gets hung up on a tricky consonant and finds himself paralyzed mid-sentence? What if someone asks his name, which is almost impossible for him to say out loud because of the letter "V" that begins his first and last names? He calls his own best friend "Rat" because it's easier to say than "Art", but strangers will be less understanding of the peculiar mechanics he uses to avoid stuttering. He relies on "Gentle Air" as much as possible, pushing out a quiet "s-s-s-s" sound to prime the pump ahead of problematic syllables, but the paper route is becoming a source of anxiety even before his first day on the job.
His parents spend a lot of time out of the house, but the boy has Mam to take care of him. A colored lady in the 1950s American South, Mam isn't usually allowed to ride in the front of the public bus, but people overlook such things as long as she's with the boy. Mam loves him like a mother but can't shield him from potential problems on his paper route, which he gamely navigates each day he fills in for Rat. After a near disastrous verbal misunderstanding at Mrs. Worthington's house, he forms a fascination for the beautiful young woman, even if she consumes too much alcohol and quarrels loudly with her husband and another man who drops by occasionally. The boy senses that Mrs. Worthington is profoundly sad, but he can't do much other than sympathize; he labors to stutter out a few nice words when possible, but it's best not to push his luck. The other customer on his route who stands out in the boy's mind is Mr. Constantine Spiro, a man of easy, articulate speech. Mr. Spiro doesn't ridicule him for his stutter; the man is an endless source of soothing remedies for the common trouble spots that stymie the boy's speech. Week after week, the boy looks forward to interacting with Mrs. Worthington and Mr. Spiro at collection time, for entirely different reasons. He's having a decent summer pitching for his baseball team and learning from Mr. Spiro, but what will happen when Rat returns and takes back the paper route?
The neighborhood seems safe, but Mam distrusts Ara T, the junkman. He wheels his dilapidated cart around, picking up stray materials to take home and sell, but mostly leaves the boy alone. Mam must have had some nasty encounters with him in the past, but she's tightlipped about it when the boy asks. His first bad interaction with Ara T comes after he asks the junkman to sharpen a knife for him to cut the cord on his bundles of newspapers. Ara T accepts the job but then refuses to return the knife, and the boy is afraid to tell Mam. The paper route has done much to teach the boy responsibility and self-reliance, forcing him to interact with strangers even though he'd prefer to avoid them; it's also helping him learn to stand up to antagonistic people, but Ara T is no harmless bully. He's a threat to anyone who crosses him, and now he's armed with a sharp new knife. For the summer to truly be a success, the boy needs to stand up to Ara T despite the perils of doing so. It's the only way he'll gain permanent confidence in a world as full of Ara Ts as it is people like Mr. Spiro.
One of the hardest parts of life is grappling with your own areas of weakness, especially one as obvious as a severe stutter. Most people the boy meets dismiss him as retarded because of his struggle to speak, but he's a actually a superb communicator. He writes with elegance and advanced vocabulary, expressing his mind better than most kids his age; in fact, he's a grade ahead in school because of his natural intelligence. How frustrating to be witty and smart yet have most of it trapped in your brain, unable to break free of the mental barriers that grow more daunting with every failed attempt to crash through them. You have well-formed opinions on any number of subjects but are considered a simpleton because you can't voice your thoughts as most people can. Overcoming such obstacles is a maddeningly slow process, and a boy who can eventually win that war is a person of class and character most grownups can only hope to emulate. This is the world of Vince Vawter, author of Paperboy, a world where his own life story and that of young Victor Vollmer III blur together in these pages so there's no separating them. Fiction, or nonfiction? Mr. Spiro has an intriguing response when the boy asks him a similar question. He says that when it comes to "fiction or nonfiction...there is no difference between the two in the world I inhabit." But surely they aren't the same, the boy manages to say. "s-s-s-s-But fiction is a story and s-s-s-s-nonfiction is the s-s-s-s-truth." Mr. Spiro's answer: "I contend that one is likely to find more truth in fiction. A good painting after all is more truthful than a photograph." Excellent literature always imparts truth, and Victor Vollmer's journey to becoming Vince Vawter is a substantial source of it.
Paperboy is beautifully written. It thrusts us directly into the boy's experience, the fear of getting caught in the web of his own words and being unable to extricate himself. The author's ability to translate this experience for the reader is remarkable. Maybe I should rate Paperboy three stars, but I can't quite bring myself to round my two-and-a-half-star rating up instead of down. The climax lacks potency, and the lesson that Mr. Spiro is building toward seems to peter out into ambiguity as the narrative draws to a close. It wouldn't have taken much to raise my rating, but Paperboy is a train that seemed fully capable of cresting that hill, only to barely miss the grade at the end. Nonetheless, it's good; I'm not surprised the American Library Association awarded Vince Vawter a 2014 Newbery Honor for his first book. If you're interested in a satisfying read that makes you think, look no further than Paperboy.