THE TRACKS WE MAKE

In McGruther’s coming-of-age novel, a teenage boy attempts to overcome his dead-end circumstances in a dying town.

It’s 1991, and senior year of high school is no picnic for Pete McCloskey. The 17-year-old begins each morning by attempting to sneak out of the house without waking his violent, alcoholic, 20-something brother, Troy. He then pedals his bike to school, past the closed train-car factory and vacant storefronts of downtown Snydersville, in western New York. Once there, he must make it through each day as a social pariah, hounded by bullies who delight in reminding him that his father is in prison for murder. (Pete’s mom is also gone; she left not long after his dad’s arrest without telling anyone where she was going.) The teen knows that a diploma is his ticket to a better life, but he’s struggling in math, his weakest subject. After school, he works at Stilson’s Food and Bev, the town liquor store, although Troy steals most of his paycheck. Pete has an offer to stay on full time at Stilson’s after he graduates, and he’s planning on accepting it when a minor bicycle accident leads to him spending an afternoon with Morgan Downer, “the most unusual and downright beautiful girl in our class”; he took a spill right in front of her house. The college-bound Morgan plans to become a pediatrician. Their moment of connection stirs a new ambition in Pete to figure out a way to take better control of his life. But is there a way for him to capture Morgan’s affection before she leaves Snydersville behind? And is there a chance that Pete can find a way out himself?

McGruther’s book delivers a highly specific, slightly romanticized idea of the 1990s Rust Belt that readers will recognize from Hollywood films and popular music; one can’t help but picture every one of these characters as wearing jean jackets. Unfortunately, the effect is more John Mellencamp than Bruce Springsteen. While McGruther’s prose is assured and highly readable throughout, it tends to take on a cloying tone, from its depiction of the wholesome, hardworking Morgan to its wistful portrait of Pete’s incarcerated father to its depiction of Mr. Stilson, the sage mailman-turned-liquor store owner. For example, at one point, Pete remembers a lesson that mailman Stilton taught him in his younger years: “‘See this, Pete?’ he’d said, holding up a stack of letters. ‘Each one of these is a story, a connection between people. Never underestimate the power of a simple message shared between people.’” Pete narrates the novel with the hindsight of adulthood, which means the book is filled with melancholic, semi-philosophical observations, such as “It was as if Snydersville was cradled in the valley and watched over by some higher power that kept each of us torn between our desires and our needs.” Although many readers are likely to see something of themselves in Pete’s struggles, the slow, recursive pacing and general lack of incident ultimately make for an unrewarding read.

A relatable Rust Belt tale, but one that suffers from oversentimentality.