Copperhead by Alexi Zentner
Title: Copperhead
Author: Alexi Zentner
Published: 2019
Type: Fiction
Pages: 350
Here’s my obligatory acknowledgment that again, it’s been a long time since I wrote and that I’m very behind in the books I’ve read – this one was finished sometime in July or August, I don’t even remember. You may have heard there was an election, the captured quite a few people’s attention. I also studied for and took the GRE (kind of a whim), have a partner who drags me away from my computer every once in a while, and started running again for yet another half marathon. But I’m back! I’m trying my best.
It doesn’t really matter what happened. None of it matters, Jessup thinks. Not his time in the weight room, sweat dripping off him, his muscles quivering with exhaustion… It doesn’t matter that he’s always been a good student, not just smart but diligent, up late, up early, keeping his work organized, reading ahead, extra-credit assignments. It doesn’t matter that he’s done everything right, that he’s had no margin for error, that his classmates have Spanish tutors and math tutors, $1,500 SAT prep classes and private instruction for thousands more, science camp and math camp, internships with state representatives because Mom’s sister knows somebody… It doesn’t matter what Jessup has done, he knows; it’s never going to be enough. The starting gun went off well before he was born, and no matter how fast he runs, he’ll never win the race.
In Brief:
This book was… clumsy. I wish it was handled better. On one hand, it unflinchingly takes on some of America’s most important issues today from a unique perspective. On the other, the writing style is simplistic and lazy, and the ending is absolutely unbelievable (in a very bad way).
Rating: 3.6
Synopsis:
Again, quoting from the Goodreads summary:
“All Jessup wants is to enjoy his senior year at Cortaca High and get a scholarship to attend college. It doesn’t seem impossible. He’s a standout varsity football player. A good student. He works at the local movie theater to help his mother make ends meet. But it’s hard to live a normal life when everybody in town knows that your stepfather is a white supremacist–a white supremacist who was involved in a violent encounter with two young black college students. And who is about to be released from prison.
But his stepfather, David John, also saved Jessup’s family from imploding, rescuing his mother and giving Jessup and his siblings a safe home for the first time. David John’s release from prison sets off a chain of events that will forever define Jessup’s entry into adulthood, dragging him into the swirling currents of irreconcilable ideologies, crushing loyalties, and unshakeable guilt.”
Where I’m At:
You remember summer, right? Seems like yesterday, but also maybe a thousand years ago? Back before it was pitch-dark at five pm and we were worried about an election, not a coup.
Also, there were those months where we as a nation were actively grappling with issues or race and police violence in a way that felt direct, and constant. It’s different this time, we told each other. It feels different. Reading this book felt very timely, given its topic, yet also not at all – I didn’t want to hear about the struggles of a white man, what he thinks about racism. I’ve heard quite enough of that, was and am much more focused on listening to Black voices. But this is something that we all have to grapple with, something where we have to try and understand each other. I thought this book was a thoughtful if heavy-handed approach, to that end.
Maybe I would have liked the book and its narrator more under different circumstances. I brought to my reading of this book some sympathy for Jessup, particularly his economic background and class resentment. As a teenager, I remember feeling angry that I couldn’t go to the same private school as some of my friends, angry that they had tutors when I hardly knew the SAT was something you were supposed to study for. I even remember struggling with the idea of affirmative action (unfortunately still banned in the recent election), and I naively wondered how it was “fair” for white people like me (if you’re confused about that specifically, here’s a useful video). Even as a Berkeley kid, I felt (and sometimes still feel) resentment towards the Ivy Leagues or other private schools, the grade inflation, administrations that will hold your hand and connections that’ll give you jobs, importance. I take pride in my accomplishments that are my own, but can’t help wondering if it couldn’t have been easier. Many of the same thoughts fueled Jessup
Getting Into it:
My main issues with the book are based on its style, versus its substance. Like I’ve said, the topic felt important, and I appreciated Zentner’s distinct angle of approach. However, I hated his writing style. It felt lazy and sloppy in the way that bad YA novels* can be, showing rather than telling, using short chapters to jump into a new scene without wrapping things up or building a connection. What bothered me most of all was the way Zentner would set a scene, using the most simplistic metaphors and not a shred of nuance. Here’s an example:
Sounds: snow laying itself down like tissue paper unfolded the wind rolling lightly against the tops of trees; regret.
It makes me want to scream. I will give Zentner a bit of credit though – maybe he did this on purpose because he was trying to be in a teenager’s head? And god knows there’s not too much nuance going on there.** The style also drove the plot along quickly, making the book a quick read that was admittedly hard to put down.
Zentner also did not make the main character very likable. This might have been intentional – again, he is a teenager, and he’s racist. But it sucked to be in his head for 300+ pages. There’s just so much self-pity, so much whining. He literally says:
I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong.
Spoiler alert: He kills someone! (Early on, so not much of a spoiler). It’s an accident, but that still certainly qualifies as something wrong. It’s been months since I read this book, and it’s getting me angry now, thinking about it.
My final stylistic issue, and my biggest overall – the ending was terrible! I truly can’t think of a worse one that I’ve read. I remember my jaw literally dropping as I read – not because it was so shocking but because it was so bad! Zentner ties everything up with this terrible little bow. It’s unbelievable, heavy-handed, melodramatic, a bizarre fantasy. I don’t even care about spoilers: Jessup turns himself in for accidentally killing a Black teenager. He serves his time on the weekend, moves across the country, goes to Yale, becomes an attorney for the Southern Poverty Law Center for God’s sake, spends his free time telling his story, even has a lovely Jewish girlfriend.
What! The! Heck!
It was too much. The book could have ended twenty pages earlier and I’d probably like it twice as much. I didn’t want Jessup to have that fairy tale ending, to end up some redeemed, glorified saint. It’s not satisfying from a literary standpoint, and it’s not realistic.
Sometimes the book felt like it was written for white people. A way to gently point at issues, and show them a way out, all without making them feel too bad. Of course, I also want to believe in redemption. I do believe that people are fundamentally good, and that we can bring people back, we can unlearn hatred. But it’s not easy. And it doesn’t involve self-pity or self-righteousness, of which this book has a lot.
Do I recommend this book? No. I wish I could. I really think it could have been a good book, and I admire Zentner for taking it on. But if the aim is for white people like me to really take a look at our biases, our role in upholding the myth of white supremacy, this book isn’t the place to learn.
* For the record: I have nothing against YA overall! There’s some excellent YA books, and I hate to use it in a way that’s derrogatory. But you know what I mean when I say bad YA. I certainly read more than my fair share in high school.
** I apologize to teenagers, especially my cousins whom I love and cherish. But I worked with two teenagers at the polls on election day and genuinely forgot how awful and shallow and dumb they can be. I am not a kids-person.
