85A

A sensitive, gay teen confronts the hostility of almost everyone he meets in Chicago in this coming-of-age novel.

Fifteen-year-old Seamus O’Grady just wants to be himself: slightly effeminate but stridently profane; obsessed with punk rock; immersed in edgy writers, from William Blake to Henry Miller; and desperate to escape from Chicago to London to become a celebrated playwright. Unfortunately, his White, Irish Catholic neighborhood and Jesuit high school—St. Xavier’s, to which he travels on the 85A bus—still persecute those traits in 1989. Gay-baiting and bullying by classmates and his parents make him attempt suicide by car exhaust. He’s even rejected by other outcasts: Punk scenesters deride his Johnny Rotten impression as hopelessly passé, and he’s savagely beaten by skinheads who steal his hat. On the meager upside, he’s a born actor, his drama teacher says; his psychiatrist is supportive; and he has a friend in Tressa, a Black, bald actress, artist, dancer, and physics whiz who intimidates the skinheads with her imperturbable moxie. Unable to return Tressa’s advances, Seamus fantasizes about going to Britain with Colby, a charismatic punk with whom he had a single, riveting encounter months ago. Smith’s yarn feels like an updated The Catcher in the Rye, with Seamus matching Holden Caulfield’s alienation and angst. Seamus is also, like many teens, callow, grandiose, snobbish, and overwrought. (“Its eyes are so startled, you’d think it’d actually been alive long enough to see what a fuckin’ horrible world this is,” he observes of a fetal pig in biology class.) The melodramatic novel somewhat uncritically endorses Seamus’ immature dudgeon, given the over-the-top hate he gets from other characters. Still, the author is a gifted writer who skillfully deploys energetic, evocative prose. His panorama of Chicago is grungily atmospheric—“Two large Latinas shrieked and ear-pierce-belly-laughed over Schlitz cans as they sat on stools, talking Spanglish on the front fire escape”—and Seamus’ arresting voice indelibly conveys the wounding loneliness of adolescence. (“I was going to do my usual thing of shuttling my ass, all alone, up and down the stairs between the main floor and video room” at a club, “wishing I had someone to talk to, wishing I knew people.”) Seamus isn’t the wisest of heroes, but many readers will see themselves in him.

A fresh, engrossing tale of a misfit kid pitting his dreams against an unforgiving society.