Deadville (review)

It’s been two years since the death of Ryan’s younger sister, Molly, and Ryan has become a drifting stoner, hanging with his drug-dealing friend, Andy, and blowing off the rest of life. When he discovers that senior princess Charlotte Silano has suffered a riding accident that’s put her in a coma, he’s inexplicably drawn to the hospital to visit her repeatedly, urging the unconscious girl, who barely knows him, to recover. His hospital visits bring him new connections, with classmates (especially matter-of-fact, friendly Betty, who eventually becomes Ryan’s girlfriend) and with Thad, the kid in the room next door to Charlotte, and it becomes clear that even if Charlotte never recovers, Ryan has begun to find his way back. Koertge is a master at depicting the consciousness of a teenaged guy who’s believably poised between perceptive self-examination and the ability to change; Ryan is authentic in both his awareness of and indifference to his spiral downward, and his narration never milks his disaffection for pathos. Nor is he sympathetic at the expense of others: even poor old Andy, unlikely to find his own way out of slackerdom, offers Ryan some genuine friendship; Ryan’s classmates are individually a credible blend of flaws and merit; Ryan’s father, a ghostly presence buried in his work, becomes dimensional as he slowly follows his son back into the world. The story is approachably understated, and readers will warm to the suggestion that recovery is possible even after devastating setbacks.