A first person narrative about a fourteen-year-old teenager who is bullied at school, told retrospectively in interviews with his legal counsel in the present, while being held in a juvenile detention centre awaiting trial for murder.
But this story about Gray doesn't seem to me to be by the same author as Annie On My Mind (1982).
Annie On My Mind sensitively handled the same-sex inclinations and love of a teenage girl, addressing the hypocrisy of the modern world, the reactionary parents and teachers, and in particular a conservative headmistress. Pitching the emotional tenor of such pieces is a fine skill, and Annie convinced me of the problems of 'public opinion' in a largely white conservative heteronormal world, but didn't manipulate me into anger against the conservative type. Instead, Garden guided her story so that our sympathies were evoked through Annie's sensitivity, and in particular because Annie was a smart everyday girl who just so happened to fall in love with another smart sensitive girl.
However, in Endgame, Garden doesn't steer this line. What she does is offer caricatures and manipulation. You’re meant to have sympathy for the teenager who's good at music, but who can't even be honest about the problems he's facing from the archetypal school bullies. This is because the dad tends to anger and occasional violence, and the mum is too cowed to stand up to the father and steer a reasonable course at home. The older brother, who would certainly have heard about the bullying at school, does nothing to help or intervene. The teachers, who are surely now trained to see the flags of such perennial problems at school, do nothing to stop it, and some even turn a blind eye because the bullies are the popular varsity jocks. And the friend who is also bullied takes it lying down, because that's how you’re 'supposed' to deal with trouble at school, not grass. Stiff upper lip, despite split upper lip.
Alll of this, and much more, becomes an issue, because every single support group supposed to be either trained (guidance counselling, teachers, form teachers) or in the picture (parents, brother, friends) fails him. But he also fails himself. Not that I don't understand. I used to carry a knife around for a year after I was beaten up by a group of thugs, whom the CID couldn't prosecute, because I was too concussed to identify them. That was foolish and wrong. I also witnessed severe bullying at school from people I knew and was able to put a stop to it, but not until the brutal act had just been committed. That was difficult. So I know a bit about the subject first hand from two perspectives. But on neither occasion did all support groups let me down. My dad was angry that I had put myself in the position that I could be assaulted, but he was there to pick me up. My deputy head threatened me with a beating if I didn't give up the names of the two bullies I knew, one of whom I knew was severely bullied by his father, and who I found at home confiding in my mum one afternoon. Both situations could have forced me to go completely quiet, become uncooperative, and even withdraw with a very angry grudge. It took years before that anger over being assaulted went away. I was there.
But what makes me angry about the story Garden paints is not the injustice of all those failures of systems and parents, but that the characters are all caricatures, because nobody is that stupid, that reactive, that reactionary. Judges, maybe, I'll grant - but they have probably had all empathy burned out long ago, seeing such brutal thuggery and violence for so long every day for decades. But not every responsible person in the story? And no point at which the pattern wasn't recognised by someone? I simply do not believe it. The authoritarian world isn’t that unanimously purblind. Nor do I accept that Gray, who is not bright like Annie, would pretend that nothing was wrong to his parents simply because his father 'got mad', or from some vague fear that his mother would. It's all too skewed, all of it.
I am not convinced, and feel manipulated, and am disappointed. This is a weak novel which did not evoke my sympathy, because it was not credible.