A Boy’s Life is Cory Mackenson’s re-telling of his experiences as a 12-year old boy in Zephyr, his hometown. Zephyr is just like any ordinary town but made rich and magical by its eccentric set of residents and the powerful mind of a boy.
The story follows a murder mystery, a rarity in the quiet town, embellished with snippets of happenings around the town. The murder mystery in itself was a journey throughout, with lots of hidden clues and dead ends. It was also satisfactorily closed at the end of the book.
But, for me, the strength of this book lies on how it was able to discuss and cover a lot of heavy topics like bullying, bribery, death, depression, racial discrimination, animal rights, modernization (e.g., effects of supermarket in small towns), grief, etc. There was just a lot of meat in this book. Sometimes, I put it down just to give me time to digest and process its contents.
The book also draws a lot of power from Cory’s imagination as a boy, wherein admittedly the world is a lot different and contains just a bit of magic.
Personally, I feel like this book is one of the greatest books I have read. Admittedly, I did not know about it but was only intrigued as the cover said that it was a winner of the World Fantasy Award and Bram Stoker Award. After reading it, it deserved the accolades. Definitely a great read.
Thank you Robert McCammon for this wonderful gift to the world.
On growing up –
“They may look grown-up,” she continued, “but it’s a disguise. It’s just the clay of time. Men and women are still children deep in their hearts. They still would like to jump and play, but that heavy clay won’t let them. They’d like to shake off every chain the world’s put on them, take off their watches and neckties and Sunday shoes and return naked to the swimming hole, if just for one day. They’d like to feel free, and know that there’s a momma and daddy at home who’ll take care of things and love them no matter what. Even behind the face of the meanest man in the world is a scared little boy trying to wedge himself into a corner where he can’t be hurt.”
“All life isn’t hearts and flowers.” Dad put down his paper. “I wish it was, God knows I do. But life is just as much pain and mess as it is joy and order. Probably a lot more mess than order, too. I guess when you make yourself realize that, you” — he smiled faintly, with his sad eyes, and looked at me — “start growin’ up.”
Don’t be in a hurry to grow up. Hold on to being a boy as long as you can, because once you lose that magic, you’re always begging to find it again.”
On writing or being a storyteller –
THERE IS NOTHING MORE frightening or exciting than a blank piece of paper. Frightening because you’re on your own, leaving dark tracks across that snowy plain, and exciting because no one knows your destination but yourself, and even you can’t say exactly where you’ll end up.
“Seems to me a writer gets to hold a lot of keys,” she said. “Gets to visit a lot of worlds and live in a lot of skins. Seems to me a writer has a chance to live forever, if he’s good and if he’s lucky.
On moving on and finding peace –
“You know, no mistake in the world can’t be fixed. All it takes is wantin’ to fix it. Sometimes it’s hard, though. Sometimes it hurts to fix a mistake, but you have to do it no matter what.”
“I don’t think anybody gives you peace, Dad. I think you have to fight for it, whether you want to or not.
“Readin’. Writin’. Thinkin’. Those are the rungs on the ladder that lead up and out. Not whinin’ and takin’ and bein’ a mind-chained slave.
On death –
I remember hearing this somewhere: when an old man dies, a library burns down. xxx I wondered about this as I walked amid the graves. How many stories were here, buried and forgotten? How many old burned libraries, how many young ones that had been building their volumes year by year? And all those stories, lost.