Answers in the Pages

A bold, timely novel about speaking up and coming out as parents lobby to ban a beloved book from the school curriculum by When Donovan left his copy of ; But soon the entire town is freaking out about whether the book''s main characters are gay, Donovan''s mom is trying to get the book removed from the school curriculum, and Donovan is caught in the middle. ; Donovan doesn''t really know if the two boys fall in love at the end or not--but he does know this: even if they do, it shouldn''t matter. The book should not be banned from school.; ; Interweaving three connected storylines, David Levithan delivers a bold, fun, and timely story about taking action (whether it''s against book censors or deadly aligators...), being brave, and standing up for what''s right.; ; ;

Autorentext

David Levithan

Klappentext

Three stories of speaking up and coming out converge in one epic confrontation as parents lobby to ban a book from the middle school curriculum in New York Times-bestselling author David Levithan's explosive new novel.

Donovan didn't mean for this to happen. When he left his book on the counter, he didn't think he mom would read it—much less have a problem with it. It's just an adventure novel! ...Right?

But before Donovan even has the chance to hear her point of view, his mom is calling other parents of his classmates. She's setting up meetings with the principal. She's trying to get the book removed from the district curriculum.

Donovan doesn't really know if the two boys fall in love at the end or not—but he does know this: even if they do, the book shouldn't be banned from school.

Interspersed with this thread, readers will experience chapters of the banned book itself—and the coming out and first love story of its author. With epic feelings and his signature panache, David Levithan delivers a brilliantly crafted story of three kids standing at crossroads. What do you do when you disagree with the adults calling the shots? How do you raise your voice and fight back?

Leseprobe

1

 

In the end, after everything they’d been through, there was only one thing the residents of Sandpiper Township could agree upon: that all the fighting, all the commotion, all the rallying came down to how a person chose to read a single sentence.

The sentence in question was:

 

At that moment Rick knew just how deeply he loved Oliver, and Oliver knew just how deeply he loved Rick, and the understanding of this moment would lead them to much of the happiness and adventure that came next.

 

As sentences go, it was a bit long, and you had to read an entire book in order to get to it. Many of the residents of Sandpiper Township wouldn’t have noticed it if it had been said during a TV show or appeared as a quote in the middle of a newspaper article. But because it was the last line of The Adventurers, and because The Adventurers had been assigned in Mr. Howe’s fifth-grade class, people did take notice. Only one person at first, then considerably more.

It’s worth reading the sentence again before I begin to tell you what happened.

 

At that moment Rick knew just how deeply he loved Oliver, and Oliver knew just how deeply he loved Rick, and the understanding of this moment would lead them to much of the happiness and adventure that came next.

 

It would be a good idea for you to stop and consider what you think about this sentence. This will be the last time you get to read it without other people telling you what they think about it.

That’s how it was in Sandpiper Township that November. I know this because I was one of the first people in Sandpiper Township besides Mr. Howe to read the sentence. Unfortunately, I didn’t read it as soon as I could have. I brought the book home with me and only read the first few pages. Then I left it on the kitchen counter and went to eat a snack in front of the TV.

From there, it only took an hour for my life to spiral out of control.

 

one

 

Gideon White was only really, really good at two things: playing with words and collecting turtles. Of the turtles, only one of them, Samson, was an actual living, breathing (*as much as turtles could be seen breathing) turtle. All the others were glass turtles or stone turtles or plastic turtles he’d gathered from gift shops, toy stores, and craft fairs.

As for the words Gideon played with--most of them were living and breathing too, but Gideon often felt he was the only person who noticed this.

Right now, it was Gideon’s job to feed the only living, breathing turtle in his room and to dust all the others. Gideon’s mother claimed to be allergic to dust, which Gideon thought was an exaggeration, since dust was everywhere and if she were truly allergic to dust she’d be coughing or sneezing or wheezing every second of every day. Instead, all she really did was complain about the dust, even when it wasn’t there.

Samson was not Gideon’s best friend, but he was definitely the friend Gideon trusted most. A lot of this had to do with the fact that Samson was a turtle and couldn’t talk. Gideon’s other two best friends, Joelle and Tucker, talked all the time. He couldn’t tell Joelle anything without Tucker finding out about it, and vice versa. Which saved Gideon some time, not having to explain things twice. But it was still annoying that he had to assume anything he said would echo beyond where it was meant to go.

Joelle and Tucker were both in Ms. June’s fifth-grade class. The alphabet had allowed them to sit next to each other while Gideon was banished to the back row. When Debbie Weiss had left class because her father got a job in Arizona, Gideon thought he’d at least be able to move up a row, which would have gotten him one desk closer to Tucker. But instead Ms. June kept the space empty. Gideon didn’t ask her why. He didn’t ask Ms. June anything, if he could avoid it.

Gideon spent most of his time in class finding new words within the ones Ms. June wrote on the board. So if she wrote history homework, he would scramble up its letters to find phrases like my stork or Who is more Thor? or He took my sow! He might even try to turn multiple words into one simpler word, like histomework. He’d do all of this in his head because early in the year he’d tried writing it all down and Ms. June had caught him doing it and instead of thinking he was doing something smart, she treated him like he was doing something wrong. That had put an end to writing it down.

Gideon was lost finding words in Benedict Arnold’s name (red coat, need cab, tied boar) when he felt the room around him pause, which meant he needed to pay attention. He raised his head and saw a boy standing next to Debbie Weiss’s old desk. The boy had shaggy hair and a bright green shirt, and looked at Gideon for a second before sitting down. Gideon had no idea who this boy was, and from looking around he realized that Ms. June had just introduced him to the class, and Gideon had missed it entirely.

For the next half hour, Gideon stared at the back of the boy’s head and tried to figure out his last name. Since Dana Wachtel was sitting in front of the boy, Gideon assumed the last name had to be alphabetically located somewhere between Wachtel and White.

Warner.

Watson.

Webster.

Weeble.

Westing.

Wheelmaker.

Whippoorwill.

Gideon tried to sneak a look inside the boy’s book bag, to see if there was a name on anything in there. But it was zipped closed.

The boy was sitting up straight. Paying attention to Ms. June.

Or maybe just appearing to pay attention. Because Gideon could see the top right corner of the boy’s notebook. He watched as the boy drew a cat. Then a bull. Then a rabbit. Then&#16…