Ginjuh By Chase Connor Lion Fish Press, 2019-20 Four stars
I do love redheads. It runs in my family. But, because of that, I also know that redheads are often weary of being singled out as redheads. So, imagine getting tagged with a nickname in childhood that focuses both on your hair color and a speech impediment that seems cute to others, but embarrassing as hell to you.
And there we have Zach Pelton, whose story this is. He loves his grandfather, on whose farm he helps out every weekend. His grandfather calls him Zach. Zach is generally a happy teenager. Comfortable in his own (pale, freckled) skin, out at school. Popular enough with his classmates. There’s an oddly fractious relationship with his parents, which I didn’t understand, at first.
The story shifts, as expected, when his grandfather hires a classmate, Austin Mankins, to help Zach create a corn maze to capitalize on the fall/Hallowe’en festivities. Austin is the class weirdo, an emo kid who writes in his notebook all the time and barely says anything. Everybody can see where this will go once Austin appears on the scene. The surprise is the way that the author handles it. Austin isn’t snarky or rude; he’s just withdrawn, almost apathetic. Zach is sensitive enough to see that—because of his tender, hands-off closeness to his laconic grandfather.
This is a subtle story, and it sticks to you because of that, without at first making a huge impression. Ultimately, it is all those carefully depicted and calibrated relationships within the small group of central players—Zach, Austin, Grandfather Pelton, Zach’s parents—that you need to pay attention to. Also rewarding is Zach’s friendship with Jay, his closest childhood friend.
This is one to think about as you read. And after you finish it.
By Chase Connor
Lion Fish Press, 2019-20
Four stars
I do love redheads. It runs in my family. But, because of that, I also know that redheads are often weary of being singled out as redheads. So, imagine getting tagged with a nickname in childhood that focuses both on your hair color and a speech impediment that seems cute to others, but embarrassing as hell to you.
And there we have Zach Pelton, whose story this is. He loves his grandfather, on whose farm he helps out every weekend. His grandfather calls him Zach. Zach is generally a happy teenager. Comfortable in his own (pale, freckled) skin, out at school. Popular enough with his classmates. There’s an oddly fractious relationship with his parents, which I didn’t understand, at first.
The story shifts, as expected, when his grandfather hires a classmate, Austin Mankins, to help Zach create a corn maze to capitalize on the fall/Hallowe’en festivities. Austin is the class weirdo, an emo kid who writes in his notebook all the time and barely says anything. Everybody can see where this will go once Austin appears on the scene. The surprise is the way that the author handles it. Austin isn’t snarky or rude; he’s just withdrawn, almost apathetic. Zach is sensitive enough to see that—because of his tender, hands-off closeness to his laconic grandfather.
This is a subtle story, and it sticks to you because of that, without at first making a huge impression. Ultimately, it is all those carefully depicted and calibrated relationships within the small group of central players—Zach, Austin, Grandfather Pelton, Zach’s parents—that you need to pay attention to. Also rewarding is Zach’s friendship with Jay, his closest childhood friend.
This is one to think about as you read. And after you finish it.