It had been nearly ten years since the publication of his last novel when Robert Cormier unleashed what would become his most famous book, The Chocolate War, in 1974. And what a decade it had been, encompassing both the escalation and de-escalation of the Vietnam War, the assassinations and riots of '68, the rise of drug culture, the dangerous secrecy of the Nixon Administration. It's really no wonder the book struck a nerve with teenagers when it came out, or that it has been a favorite (for all the wrong reasons) of bookburners ever since. I'd first read The Chocolate War as a junior high student, and again, when it was required reading for a freshman English class. But that was in the 80s, and while I was certainly terrified of the possibility of nuclear war, the idea that I might actually be fighting in a war was unfathomably remote.

Here is a story of a high school freshman who, without really looking for it, finds himself in the center of a conflict that really has very little to do with him... that is, until it has everything to do with him. Nevertheless, he wills himself to act of his own accord, refusing to obey the given orders or conform with the social mandates of his school. In happier books, such a character might be a hero, and indeed, Cormier makes Jerry Renault a hero. (In the pantheon of teen fiction, Renault rubs martyred elbows with Holden Caulfield and Ponyboy Curtis). But where the heroes in other, happier books endure their challenges nobly and are rewarded accordingly for their trials and efforts, Cormier has a different, far more subversive (and often misinterpreted) agenda - one which spoke loudly to the times in which Cormier was writing this story, but which may have grown even more subversive with time. In The Chocolate War, the real hero (and really, the most memorable character in Cormier's entire body of work) is a villain.

Archie Costello is the designated "Assigner" of The Vigils, the shadowy cabal-like student organization that virtually runs Trinity High School - a sort of private Catholic school Bilderberg Group. In his position, Costello is responsible for coming up with and "assigning" various tasks or trials to almost randomly selected members of the student body. These assignments range from simple teenage pranks to devastating humiliations, and Costello - equally admired and feared by his fellows - wields his power with remorseless, amoral authority. Now, the first rule of The Vigils is that you do not talk about The Vigils. Officially, they don't exist. But when the reptilian Brother Leon (Cormier evocatively and repeatedly refers to his moist eyes), acting headmaster of the school, lands himself in a potentially disastrous financial bind on the eve of the school's annual chocolate sale fundraiser, he does the unthinkable, conceding The Vigils' realm of influence, and enlisting the aid of the group to ensure the sale's success - more specifically, enlisting the aid of Archie Costello, who, in turn, sees both an easy victim in Renault, and an opportunity to teach Brother Leon a lesson about who's who and what's what at Trinity High.

The book's ominous opening words - They murdered him. - signal the beginning of a story rife with physical and emotional violence. Cormier's phrasing is tenacious and snarling - witness the ritual role calls in which Renault, again and again, asserts his perilous individuality - each of the novel's brief chapters reading like a scene from some National Geographic nature special on predators and prey. Over and over, we meet the meat, and watch as it gets chased, caught, and devoured by Archie Costello and his all-too-willing cronies. In Trinity High School, with its seemingly infinite cast of characters, Cormier has not only created a seething cauldron of intrigue, but also a sort of microcosm of humanity - albeit, largely lacking in women and, y'know, parents. The book's central conflict - a corrupt, "official" authority figure with a claim (however questionable) to moral superiority appealing to students' loyalty and school spirit versus the rogue shadow organization with a gift for terror and a claim (however irresponsible) to real "street" power - provokes direct analogies to any number of contemporary political realities, often with truly queasy-making implications.

But therein lies the book's peculiar genius: it's hard not to admire - even root for - the book's ugliest, most monstrous figure. Meanwhile, Cormier illustrates the formidable chasm between hanging a poster in your locker asking T.S. Eliot's famous question, "Do I dare to the disturb the universe?" and the consequences of actually disturbing your universe. The Chocolate War is often celebrated as an ode to the heroism of the nonconformist, but the truth of the novel is something darker, and more ambiguous. It's a book that, 35 years later, continues to earn - and how! - its placement on school reading lists and banned books lists alike.

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MORE ROBERT CORMIER:

I am the Cheese (1977)

After the First Death (1979)

The Bumblebee Flies Anyway (1983)

Beyond the Chocolate War (1985)

Fade (1988)

Other Bells for Us to Ring (1990)

We All Fall Down (1991)

Tunes for Bears to Dance To (1992)

In the Middle of the Night (1995)

Tenderness (1997)

Heroes (1998)

Frenchtown Summer (1999)

The Rag and Bone Shop (2001)


Recommended: Yes