In our society, suicide is a taboo subject. Those who have suicidal thoughts are made to feel abnormal, and people worry that if they acknowledge suicide they will somehow encourage it. Sufferers are forced to repress the idea, in the hope it will go away. Sadly, if unattended, the idea can eventually translate to action.
Thirteen Reasons Why exposes the harsh reality of suicide. The novel is not, as might first appear, teenage fiction (at least not in the derogatory sense); it is better seen as a social mirror. Thirteen Reasons Why provides a highly relatable insight – through the medium of a high school environment – into the nature of suicide, and challenges the social constructs that can push people over the edge.
“I hope you’re ready, because I’m about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you’re listening to these tapes, you’re one of my reasons why,” begins the voice of Hannah Baker. Clay Jensen, one recipient of said tapes, can only listen to Hannah’s ill-fated story with horror. Why did she do it? How was he responsible? He could have loved her, but now it is too late.
The novel is instantly engrossing. I read Thirteen Reasons Why in a single sitting (from about 10pm to 2am), a feat for which I can rarely muster the focus. Hannah may not be likeable as she destroys the lives of others from beyond the grave, but we hang on her every word. The concept of suicide tapes appeals to our morbid curiosity, twisting this guilty human tendency towards a just purpose. Even the most reluctant of readers will be entranced by Hannah’s story, doing as the living did not: attempting to understand her.
With the reader captured, the novel’s surface appearance of dealing with the trivialities of teenage life remains to be peeled away. Hannah first recounts her obsession with a perfect first kiss. She talks of how she waited at the top of a park slide, so that she could slide down into warm embrace – a reality she realised, although the mouth she met tasted of chili dogs. This marks the beginning of rumours. In a high school environment, these rumours stick, especially when considering Hannah’s status as the new girl at school. A ‘Hot or Not’ list follows. Then ass-groping in public. Then a boy taking photos by peeking through the blinds of Hannah’s bedroom window. And on it spirals.
Taken out of context, some of these events may seem trivial. However, they collectively replace Hannah’s imaginative and idealistic innocence with cynicism, and, as her armour for life is removed, each successive blow cuts her skin deeper than the last. Hannah comes to a realisation that we should all be aware of: “everything affects everything.” We do not know how our actions will impact others, but something as seemingly innocuous as a ‘Hot or Not’ list – which happens all the time – never happens in an isolated bubble.
When suicide is discussed in our society, it tends to take on a simplistic form; we are inclined to look for a single underlying reason. Hannah discovers this for herself when she anonymously suggests the topic of suicide for discussion in her Peer Communications class. In response, the class demand to know why the mystery person is considering suicide. Is it because of bad grades? No friends? A failed romantic relationship? They try to reduce suicide down to one reason. A reason is simple and solvable; reasons are less so.
This reductionist tendency is most painfully apparent when Hannah meets a school counsellor in her final, desperate lurch for life. She struggles to explain why she is considering suicide by talking of rumours, a list, a party; all the “trivialities” of teenage life. At the mention of “party,” the counsellor ceases to listen. The dialogue goes something like this: Was there a boy? Yes? Will you press charges? No? Move on then. “Party” is seen immediately as sexual behaviour, under the influence, by immature adolescent boys. This is something seen by the counsellor (and much of our society) as unworthy of serious concern. Boys will be boys, after all.
This is repugnant, but it also stems from an inaccurate assumption. At this point in the novel, Hannah has been violated in more ways than one, but she is also harbouring guilt for witnessing the violation of others, and for a person’s death. This can all be linked to the “party”, but the counsellor remains completely unaware. The counsellor illustrates how meaningless words become when we rely on our own private definitions, based on limited experience and a narrow (detestable) worldview. We must listen to a person in order to understand, not pounce with our preconceived judgments.
Moral messages are not the only force lending Thirteen Reasons Why its power as a novel; it also lingers in the mind long after reading because of the written technique of caricature – creating a believable reality, then stretching it to breaking-point with the use of extremes. Some of the events in the novel may not seem realistic, but they leave the mind reeling. In one noteworthy moment, Hannah is house-sitting a few doors down from a party, shortly following the aforementioned “party.” In the floor beneath her feet, she can feel the vibrations of the bass. It is so simple for readers to conceptualise this feeling of vibrations, yet so difficult to deal with all the evoked implications. We are overwhelmed by Hannah’s hopelessness and her inability to escape the past. We can sample, even if not able to wholly appreciate, why people commit suicide.
Thirteen Reasons Why deserves acclaim for how it manages to reconcile the rational and irrational aspects of suicide. Violated in mind and body, impotent and with lost integrity, Hannah sabotages herself to give up completely. She does not want to die, but she feels unable to live. The book is a superb means of getting people thinking and talking about a subject that is otherwise taboo. With its lessons in mind, we can make life more worth living.
No comments:
Post a Comment