I picked this one up at a paperback exchange in a public library. I hadn't thought of Paul Zindel in years; he was a big deal among kids when I was in junior high/high school. I'd loved "The Pigman" and always meant to read this one. Well, 30 years after the fact, I finally got the chance.
"Teenage Baboon" is a half-baked souffle. It ain't bad, but it's clearly missing something. The narrator is cut from the Holden Caulfield mold--- he's a streetwise, smartassed kid telling his story directly to the reader. I won't go into the whole tale here. 15-year old Chris Boyd goes with his live-in nurse mom to take care of a dying old lady, Carmelita, in her home for a week. There, Chris encounters Carmelita's senile husband, her asshole 30-year old son Lloyd, and Lloyd's 16-year old "pal," Harold. Plenty of interesting stuff happens in that week. . .but something's off-key throughout.
The main issue in the book is Chris' lack of a male role model. His father ran out on his mother and him many years ago and died. Zindel never provides much info on Chris' pop, other than how his mother hated him. The father's sole legacy to Chris is an oversized chesterfield overcoat that Chris treats like a holy relic, carrying it around with him during his and his mom's frequent moving between clients' homes and the cheapshit hotel they reside in between jobs.
Zindel sets up Lloyd as a role model for Chris. But then, the author portrays this overgrown adolescent as an abusive drunk who neglects his elderly parents and frequently blows off work to drink and, disturbingly, hang out with high school kids for whom he throws a neverending series of booze-soaked parties.
Lloyd gives Chris some 'tough love,' telling the boy to respect his body through regular bathing, exercise and healthy eating. He tells Chris to stand up to his overbearing mother and be the young man that he is. Solid enough advice, for sure. But coming from Lloyd, a character Zindel renders in the bleak colors of a hardcore loser? The novelist never resolves the question of why Chris would view Lloyd as a role model or take anything he says seriously. Indeed, Chris spends most of the book fearing Lloyd for his borderline-psycho behavior.
I know it's unfair to hold a 1977 novel up to 2015 standards, but Lloyd would've set alarm bells jangling even back in the Carter era. He's drunk pretty much always. He's vicious and verbally/physically abusive to all around him. An adult man, he hangs out exclusively with high school kids, holding wild parties at which Lloyd provides the kids with ready access to alcohol and rooms of his house to screw in. And then there's his relationship with Harold.
Zindel casts Harold as a Sal Mineo-in-"Rebel Without a Cause"-type, a lonely, wimpy kid who's overlooked by everyone, including his parents. Harold spends nearly all of his time at Lloyd's place slavishly cooking for, cleaning for and waiting on the tool. Harold credits Lloyd with "saving" him with the same advice Lloyd doles out to Chris. Though Zindel never says so, Harold and Lloyd clearly have a dysfunctional "wife" and "husband" thing going. Example? Lloyd dispatches Harold to the supermarket to fetch goodies for yet another bash. When Harold fails to do so, Lloyd slaps the shit out of him. Poor Harold.
And poor reader, for this novel is filled with dead-ends and unanswered questions. Chris has a cute almost-relationship with a girl named Rosemary, but she dumps Chris for a truck-stop quickie with a jock named Apollo. Chris' mom is a two-dimensional shrew who evolves not a bit through the story. Chris, at age 15, knows what "titular" and "jurisprudence" mean, but he needs Lloyd to tell him to shower daily? The other kids who party with Lloyd are mere spear-carriers. School is frequently mentioned, but these teenagers spend no time there. And the neighborhood in which the whole tale takes place is a ghost town peopled by---well, we never see the neighbors. Whoever they are, they're unusually forgiving. They quietly endure Lloyd's loud wing-dings without ever calling the cops once.
And the whole thing just winds up. . .nowhere. Two major characters die, but their deaths yield neither peace nor understanding. Nobody learns much of anything or changes for the better. We never find out why Chris is writing his "confession," or to whom he's writing it. The "teenage baboon" of the title is never mentioned. Finally, Zindel leaves Chris sitting with Rosemary on a park bench, spouting half-assed poetry and looking up at the stars. The end.
Maybe this played better back in the days when the Sweathogs and James at 15 were considered typical teenagers. But now, the gaps in credibility are just too wide for this Generation X'er to ignore. For my money, Zindel's finest hour remains "The Pigman."