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The Chocolate War Taschenbuch – 14. September 2004
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One of the most controversial YA novels of all time, The Chocolate War is a modern masterpiece that speaks to fans of S. E. Hinton’s The Outsiders and John Knowles’s A Separate Peace . After suffering rejection from seven major publishers, The Chocolate War made its debut in 1974, and quickly became a bestselling—and provocative—classic for young adults. This chilling portrait of an all-boys prep school casts an unflinching eye on the pitfalls of conformity and corruption in our most elite cultural institutions. “Masterfully structured and rich in theme; the action is well crafted, well timed, suspenseful.”— The New York Times Book Review “The characterizations of all the boys are superb.”— School Library Journal , starred review “Compellingly immediate. . . . Readers will respect the uncompromising ending.”— Kirkus Reviews , starred review An ALA Best Book for Young Adults A School Library Journal Best Book of the Year A Kirkus Reviews Editor’s Choice A New York Times Outstanding Book of the Year
" The Chocolate War is masterfully structured and rich in theme; the action is well crafted, well timed, suspenseful; complex ideas develop and unfold with clarity."- The New York Times Book Review "The characterizations of all the boys are superb... This novel [is] unique in its uncompromising portrait of human cruelty and conformity."- School Library Journal , starred review "The novel is cleverly written with a good sense of the realistic and a good ear for dialouge, qualities which will attract any reader."- Bestsellers "Robert Cormier has written a brilliant novel."- Children's Book Revie Service
IN 1974, AFTER SUFFERING rejections from seven major publishers, The Chocolate War made its debut. An uncompromising portrait of conformity and corruption, it quickly became a bestselling--and provocative--classic for young adults. "Masterfully structured and rich in theme; the action is well crafted, well timed, suspenseful."-- The New York Times Book Review "The characterizations of all the boys are superb."-- School Library Journal , Starred "Compellingly immediate. . . . Readers will respect the uncompromising ending."-- Kirkus Reviews , Starred An ALA Best Books for Young Adults A School Library Journal Best Books of the Year A Kirkus Reviews Choice A New York Times Outstanding Books of the Year
IN 1974, AFTER SUFFERING rejections from seven major publishers, "The Chocolate War made its debut. An uncompromising portrait of conformity and corruption, it quickly became a bestselling--and provocative--classic for young adults. "Masterfully structured and rich in theme; the action is well crafted, well timed, suspenseful."--"The New York Times Book Review "The characterizations of all the boys are superb."--"School Library Journal, Starred "Compellingly immediate. . . . Readers will respect the uncompromising ending."--"Kirkus Reviews, Starred "An "ALA Best Books for Young Adults "A School Library Journal "Best Books of the Year "A Kirkus Reviews "Choice "A New York Times "Outstanding Books of the Year
Robert Cormier (1925-2000) changed the face of young adult literature over the course of his illustrious career. His many books include The Chocolate War , I Am the Cheese , Fade , Tenderness , After the First Death , Heroes , Frenchtown Summer , and The Rag and Bone Shop . In 1991 he received the Margaret A. Edwards Award, honoring his lifetime contribution to writing for teens.
THEY MURDERED HIM. As he turned to take the ball, a dam burst against the side of his head and a hand grenade shattered his stomach. Engulfed by nausea, he pitched toward the grass. His mouth encountered gravel, and he spat frantically, afraid that some of his teeth had been knocked out. Rising to his feet, he saw the field through drifting gauze but held on until everything settled into place, like a lens focusing, making the world sharp again, with edges. The second play called for a pass. Fading back, he picked up a decent block and cocked his arm, searching for a receiver - maybe the tall kid they called The Goober. Suddenly, he was caught from behind and whirled violently, a toy boat caught in a whirlpool. Landing on his knees, hugging the ball, he urged himself to ignore the pain that gripped his groin, knowing that it was important to betray no sign of distress, remembering The Goober's advice, "Coach is testing you, testing, and he's looking for guts." I've got guts. Jerry murmured, getting up by degrees, careful not to displace any of his bones or sinews. A telephone rang in his ears. Hello, hello, I'm still here. When he moved his lips, he tasted the acid of dirt and grass and gravel. He was aware of the other players around him, helmeted and grotesque, creatures from an unknown world. He had never felt so lonely in his life, abandoned, defenseless. On the third play, he was hit simultaneously by three of them: one, his knees; another, his stomach; a third, his head - the helmet no protection at all. His body seemed to telescope into itself but all the parts didn't fit, and he was stunned by the knowledge that pain isn't just one thing - it is cunning and various, sharp here and sickening there, burning here and clawing there. He clutched himself as he hit the ground. The ball squirted away. His breath went away, like the ball - a terrible stillness pervaded him - and then, at the onset of panic, his breath came back again. His lips sprayed wetness and he was grateful for the sweet cool air that filled his lungs. But when he tried to get up, his body mutinied against movement. He decided the hell with it. He'd go to sleep right here, right out on the fifty yard line, the hell with trying out for the team, screw everything, he was going to sleep, he didn't care anymore-- "Renault!" Ridiculous, someone calling his name. "Renault!" The coach's voice scraped like sandpaper against his ears. He opened his eyes flutteringly. "I'm all right," he said to nobody in particular, or to his father maybe. Or the coach. He was unwilling to abandon this lovely lassitude but he had to, of course. He was sorry to leave the earth, and he was vaguely curious about how he was going to get up, with both legs smashed and his skull battered in. He was astonished to find himself on his feet, intact, bobbing like one of those toy novelties dangling from car windows, but erect. "For Christ's sake," the coach bellowed, his voice juicy with contempt. A spurt of saliva hit Jerry's cheek. Hey, coach, you spit on me, Jerry protested. Stop the spitting, coach. What he said aloud was, "I'm all right, coach," because he was a coward about stuff like that, thinking one thing and saying another, planning one thing and doing another - he had been Peter a thousand times and a thousand cocks had crowed in his lifetime. "How tall are you, Renault?" "Five nine," he gasped, still fighting for breath. "Weight?" "One forty-five," he said, looking the coach straight in the eye. "Soaking wet, I'll bet," the coach said sourly. "What the hell you want to play football for? You need more meat on those bones. What the hell you trying to play quarterback for? You'd make a better end. Maybe." The coach looked like an old gangster: broken nose, a scar on his check like a stitched shoestring. He needed a shave, his stubble like slivers of ice. He growled and swore and was merciless. But a helluva coach, they said. The coach stared at him now, the dark eyes probing, pondering. Jerry hung in there, trying not to sway, trying not to faint. "All right," the coach said in disgust. "Show up tomorrow. Three o'clock sharp or you're through before you start." Inhaling the sweet sharp apple air through his nostrils - he was afraid to open his mouth wide, wary of any movement that was not absolutely essential - he walked tentatively toward the sidelines, listening to the coach barking at the other guys. Suddenly, he loved that voice, "Show up tomorrow." He trudged away from the field, blinking against the afternoon sun, toward the locker room at the gym. His knees were liquid and his body light as air, suddenly. Know what? He asked himself, a game he played sometimes. What? I'm going to make the team. Dreamer, dreamer. Not a dream: it's the truth. As Jerry took another deep breath, a pain appeared, distant, small - a radar signal of distress. Bleep, I'm here. Pain. His feet scuffled through crazy cornflake leaves. A strange happiness invaded him. He knew he'd been massacred by the oncoming players, capsized and dumped humiliatingly on the ground. But he'd survived - he'd gotten to his feet. "You'd make a better end." Was the coach thinking he might try him at end? Any position, as long as he made the team. The bleep grew larger, localized now, between his ribs on the right side. He thought of his mother and how drugged she was at the end, not recognizing anyone, neither Jerry nor his father. The exhilaration of the moment vanished and he sought it in vain, like seeking ecstasy's memory an instant after jacking off and encountering only shame and guilt. Nausea began to spread through his stomach, warm and oozy and evil. "Hey," he called weakly. To nobody. Nobody there to listen. He managed to make it back to the school. By the time he had sprawled himself on the floor of the lavatory, his head hanging over the lip of the toilet bowl and the smell of disinfectant stinging his eyeballs, the nausea had passed and the bleep of pain had faded. Sweat moved like small moist bugs on his forehead. And then, without warning, he vomited.
Herausgeber
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Ember; Anniversary,Reprint Edition (14. September 2004) Sprache
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Englisch Taschenbuch
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272 Seiten ISBN-10
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0375829873 ISBN-13
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978-0375829871 Lesealter
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Kundenempfehlung: ab 12 Jahr(en) Lexile-Bewertung
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820L Schuljahr
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7 - 9 Artikelgewicht
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218 g Abmessungen
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13.97 x 1.4 x 20.96 cm
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I absolutely worshipped this book as a kid, perhaps because kids take the broad point of view and are willing to see, much more than adults, that life is basically a horrible rat race and most everyone falls into its trap at the end. What some have seen as the cynicism of the book kids see as a virtue, and what made this book special in 1974 (the era of Watergate) was that Cormier stood pretty much alone in his absolute negativity, while everyone else, from your school counselors on up, were encouraging you to look on the bright side always. Today, perhaps, the bright side isn't strictly enforced the way it once was. A general aura of gloom and doom prevails, in everything from TV to the news to comic books and social media. The increase in school shootings have given kids another reason to be afraid of their peers, but in 1974 we went to school, saw the evil, and couldn't see it reflected anywhere else but in The Chocolate War. It was enough to put me off chocolate, and anyone who knows me knows I love the stuff! We raised money at our high school (another Catholic boys school) to help the legal defenses of one of our own who was unjustly imprisoned for smuggling drugs across international borders. In this book, Jerry Renault stands alone against a tide of evil greater than any ever amassed in history, and several have read the book as an allegory for the conquering wave of Hitler and the Nazi party across Europe in the 1930s, while Brother Leon and Archie Costello stand in for Hitler and Mussolini. The book's title has these echoes, and also those of the Vietnam War, still raging while Cormier labored on his novel. Others have contrasted the world of Archie (the "Assigner" of Trinity's secret society, the "Vigils," with the world of Archie and Jughead at Riverdale High, and suggesting that maybe private school, for all its cachet, isn't as good an education as the one meted out by Principal Weatherbee and Miss Grundy. The Chocolate War is also thick with sexuality and violence. Some of its action was taken by Cormier from the existing school classics To Sir with Love and The Blackboard Jungle (for example, the famous "destruction of room 19"" in The Chocolate War has its beginnings back in To Sir with Love, when the teacher on his first day of school leans on his desk and finds it collapsing sunder his touch) and those books had dark elements, but in none of them was a student photographed whacking off in the boys room and blackmailed about it, the linchpin of the action in the Cormier book. Jerry starts throwing up in his mouth when assailed as a "fairy" by Emile, ironically enough one who finds himself getting aroused when wrestling or tackling an opponent. Everyone's sort of dissociated from his feelings. Adolescence is a time to flex one's mental and physical muscles and there's a lot of flexing going on, and it never stops being grim. Maybe the book might have improved had there been one little ray of light, if o
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