You Know Where to Find Me, by Rachel Cohn
Cohn, Rachel (2008). You Know Where to Find Me. NY: Simon and Schuster. 208 pages.
When I saw on the book's jacket flap that Rachel Cohn's new novel promised to address a myriad of issues--including "alternative family configurations," "prescription drug abuse," and "depression," I wasn't sure if I was in for a real book or just the latest incarnation of problem fiction. Turns out, You Know Where to Find Me is not a problem novel, per se. Yes, it does include the issues mentioned on the book flap; however, it doesn't address them, list-style, and then "solve" them by page 208.
Miles (who narrates the story) and Laura are cousins and best friends who live on the same property; Miles and her mother live in the carriage house attached to Laura's father's D.C. digs. The two girls are the same age and have essentially grown up together and Miles, at least, considers them soul-mates. When Laura commits suicide, Miles is both intensely saddened and also jealous. Laura, the golden girl of the pair--blonde, slender, and popular--had everything to live for while Miles--hair dyed black, overweight, unpopular--considered herself the best candidate for elimination. Miles deals with Laura's death by indulging in the cousins' favorite pastime, taking prescription drugs, smoking cigarettes, and hanging out in the treehouse Laura's father had built for the girls.
When I think about the essential plot of this book, my summary goes something like this: Good girl dies; bad girl cries, takes drugs, and considers dropping out of high school, then decides to go back to school as the school newspaper's editor and campaign for DC statehood. What? Yeah, the DC statehood issue is one that runs more strongly throughout the book than those "social issues" featured on the book flap. While I can definitely see this inclusion of an uncommon (in YA lit, at least) social issue as a metaphor for Miles, herself, as she approaches her own independence with equal parts anxiety, cynicism and fear, I'm not sure it all works in this slender book. I get that including this type of content is an important part of setting the novel in DC, especially among some of DC's political actors; however, I don't think that the book was long enough or deep enough to handle as much statehood stuff as was included.
That said, I don't think the novel was all that bad. I like that it didn't make a big deal out of its drug content and call attention to Addiction in a contrived way. The scene where Miles goes to Laura's funeral stoned made the points that were necessary without preaching and, intriguingly, without vilifying the character. That said (again!), I though the drug use issue was resolved in a sort of deus ex machina way that didn't seem true to the book as a whole. I don't want to spoil the ending, so I'll just leave it at that.
So, yeah, this book was OK. Rachel Cohn's name will probably sell it to folks who dig her stuff (both alone and with David Levithan). I'll admit, I was curious about her new novel, and I'm not even a fan. That said, I'm still not moving Rachel Cohn to my personal list of best YA authors of all time. Why? Because (and this is a somewhat bitchy and personally readerly critique) almost every book I've read by Cohn is narrated by some character that gets on my nerves. I don't know why everyone likes Cyd Charisse (from Gingerbread, and others), nor do I get the whole David Levithan pair-up narratives. There's something (to me, anyway) alienating about Cohn's narratives and I think it comes from the attempts the characters seem to make to distinguish themselves as cool and edgy and over it. I've always said that if you're really cool, you've transcended all signs of coolness already, so I guess what I'm doing is calling out Cohn's supposedly authentic characters as posers. But, then again, what do I know? I'm no cool dude. But then again, maybe I'm just saying that because I've transcended coolness.