Dear Evan Hansen - The Novel
Conclusion:
This book might belong in Don’t Read It, but to be honest, I think I need to have a certain level of rage to put a book in that category (ie how we feel about 13 Reasons Why). With Dear Evan Hansen: The Novel, I’m just disappointed.
I read this book because I saw and loved the musical, which came first. That means I'm especially bummed because I really wanted to love this the same way I love the musical. And the book was off the a good start! I really liked the narration. Evan is a hilariously awkward and anxious narrator. I could totally relate and was cracking up.
But it all went south when they decided to whitewash the psyche of a suicidal character and misrepresent the reality of teen suicide. Gah! When will we get a young adult book that handles this topic well?? Not to mention the flat, uninspiring ending that somehow manages to be pathetic, even though it has the same plot points of the musical, which ended so well.
Anyway, I have a little soapbox. Let me get it ready.
Okay:
Some kids have monsters under their beds. Other kids have relatives. You know, those toxic people that lash out all the time. The ones you love but are afraid of.
Connor Murphy, at least at first, is portrayed as one of these. he’s described as scary. School shooter scary. He shoves people who look at him the wrong way. He loves Nietzsche and Catcher in the Rye. He screams “I’m going to kill you” at his sister for no reason.
And in the opening pages (or songs) of Dear Evan Hansen, he kills himself (off stage, for those concerned).
In the musical, that’s all you really get to know about Connor. He's the metaphorical specter of the story that hangs over every scene. You never understand why he was the way he was, or why he took his own life. And part of the story is his family trying to figure out how to grieve him. It works incredibly well because it fits my own experience with the loss of difficult/damaging relatives. It’s a complicated grief—and when it involves suicide, it is even more the question of why they did it is never really answered. I really appreciated how the musical handled this.
The book went in a different direction. Connor became an actual specter. He wanders around in his immaterial form, observes his family grieving, and tells us what his family can never know: why he killed himself. Right off the bat I thought this was a risky move because Connor is portrayed as the villain to at least some of the characters. I was curious to see how they would give humanity and complexity to this toxic character.
But they didn’t. They totally swerved and avoided the whole thing. All Connor talks about is how he is just misunderstood. He swears he never threatened to kill his sister and wonders if that’s what she really thought of him. He’s not angry/prone to violence. Yeah, he’s got that reputation, but that’s not really who he is. He’s just sensitive and lonely and misunderstood. He even tells us how this person that he started dating called him “pure” and “innocent.” It makes zero sense for the beginning of the book, completely undermines the grieving of his family, and whitewashes who he was.
And. It. Really. Bothers. Me.
We have to be able to look at a person and truly see them. We can love someone, empathize with them, and still be honest about their flaws and the danger they pose to others. This book couldn’t do that. This isn’t all that surprising—it’s a weakness of our culture, too. But it’s something that we really, really need to get better at. The writers had the chance to show us how to do this, and they totally missed it. For a nonfiction example of what this looks like, read Brene Brown's Rising Strong--particularly Chapter 6: Sewer Rats and Scofflaws.
TOTAL SIDE NOTE: the book doesn’t feel nearly as happy at the end as the musical did, and I kept on getting tripped up in key scenes because I could hear the songs. With this and the Connor thing, Dear Evan Hansen: The Novel was not my favorite reading experience.
- Alana
Some kids have monsters under their beds. Other kids have relatives. You know, those toxic people that lash out all the time. The ones you love but are afraid of.
Connor Murphy, at least at first, is portrayed as one of these. he’s described as scary. School shooter scary. He shoves people who look at him the wrong way. He loves Nietzsche and Catcher in the Rye. He screams “I’m going to kill you” at his sister for no reason.
And in the opening pages (or songs) of Dear Evan Hansen, he kills himself (off stage, for those concerned).
In the musical, that’s all you really get to know about Connor. He's the metaphorical specter of the story that hangs over every scene. You never understand why he was the way he was, or why he took his own life. And part of the story is his family trying to figure out how to grieve him. It works incredibly well because it fits my own experience with the loss of difficult/damaging relatives. It’s a complicated grief—and when it involves suicide, it is even more the question of why they did it is never really answered. I really appreciated how the musical handled this.
The book went in a different direction. Connor became an actual specter. He wanders around in his immaterial form, observes his family grieving, and tells us what his family can never know: why he killed himself. Right off the bat I thought this was a risky move because Connor is portrayed as the villain to at least some of the characters. I was curious to see how they would give humanity and complexity to this toxic character.
But they didn’t. They totally swerved and avoided the whole thing. All Connor talks about is how he is just misunderstood. He swears he never threatened to kill his sister and wonders if that’s what she really thought of him. He’s not angry/prone to violence. Yeah, he’s got that reputation, but that’s not really who he is. He’s just sensitive and lonely and misunderstood. He even tells us how this person that he started dating called him “pure” and “innocent.” It makes zero sense for the beginning of the book, completely undermines the grieving of his family, and whitewashes who he was.
And. It. Really. Bothers. Me.
We have to be able to look at a person and truly see them. We can love someone, empathize with them, and still be honest about their flaws and the danger they pose to others. This book couldn’t do that. This isn’t all that surprising—it’s a weakness of our culture, too. But it’s something that we really, really need to get better at. The writers had the chance to show us how to do this, and they totally missed it. For a nonfiction example of what this looks like, read Brene Brown's Rising Strong--particularly Chapter 6: Sewer Rats and Scofflaws.
TOTAL SIDE NOTE: the book doesn’t feel nearly as happy at the end as the musical did, and I kept on getting tripped up in key scenes because I could hear the songs. With this and the Connor thing, Dear Evan Hansen: The Novel was not my favorite reading experience.
- Alana
Books It Reminds Us Of:
If you're looking for more funny awkward narrators, I would recommend, Me, Earl and the Dying Girl. For a less funny/more complex/but still delightful read dealing with anxiety, try Starfish.
If you're looking for more books that deal with teen suicide in a positive way...I'm sorry. I've got nothing. Just...whatever you do, don't read 13 Reasons Why. It makes Dear Evan Hansen: The Novel look amazing.
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