Swiss Mist, by Randy Powell
Powell, Randy (2008). Swiss Mist. NY: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux. 224 pages.
Randy Powell doesn’t write enough books. This is not a criticism of his writing, but a selfish and likely unhelpful critique of his process. If the dude would just work a little faster, he might be able to publish something every year instead of every other year. Like many of the YA authors residing in the Pacific Northwest (an observation which begs the question: is there a Pacific Northwest School of YA Writing?), Powell’s novels of everyday life are slightly quirky (but not in a cutesy way) and definitely sympathetic to the emerging generation of “normal” kids of hippie-ish parents.
Told in the first person, Swiss Mist describes Milo’s developmental trajectory from fifth grade–when his parents were divorced–through tenth grade–when his mother remarries. Although his parents’ divorce causes Milo to reconsider his mother and father as Parents (with a capital “P”), his memories of his fifth grade teacher, Ms. Swinford, provide an odd comfort. Milo remembers lunch periods spent in Ms. Swinford’s classroom (with other teacher’s pets) during which she regaled the group with stories of her life growing up in a small Washington town and of her trip to Switzerland, the realization of a dream of travel. These memories punctuate Milo’s half-hearted but considered quest for a guiding philosophy, something his ex-professor (and philanderer) father had encouraged him to do.
I realize that the above synopsis makes the novel sound pretty dull. Memories of a fifth grade teacher’s travelogues? Junior (and senior) high school philosophizing? As with all of Powell’s novels, the beauty is in the telling. And, here, I think “beauty” might be the wrong word. The literary elite would not find tremendous trendy Style (with a capital “S”) in the work of Powell, but I have always appreciated his frank simplicity. Again, like so many Pacific NW authors I admire (Beverly Cleary, Jean Davies Okimoto, Barthe DeClements), Powell understands how to incorporate both elements of everyday life (like Milo’s daily and nearly wordless BMX romps with a friend he doesn’t otherwise acknowledge) and those odd details that enhance everyday life (in Milo’s case, its his mother’s friendship with an overbearing classmate’s mother, which leads to intermittent but consistent reminders to get in touch with said classmate) in a way that makes his characters and their situations seem just that much more authentic and like folks we might want to hang out with some day.
If all that doesn’t get you, I have to let you know that the book itself is a pretty fast read that ends in something of a surprise. I won’t reveal its nature, but will let you know that the twist–in less capable hands–could have been rendered in a very stereotypical and even cautionary way, but was instead a point of unconventional humor that directly informed the novel’s climax.