I thought this was going to be a really easy review to write, as I am so freaking in love with this book.
But of course not. That would make things nice and simple and would make Bree happy and we can’t have that, now can we.
Heck, I’ll give this my best shot. A for effort, right?
…Just don’t expect me to do this book justice of any sort.
Sadly enough, when I picked up The Outsiders, I was in my English classroom. My [here’s where I remove a few adjectives in fear she might someday read this] teacher dropped a mysteriously moist school copy on my desk. She then talked our ears off about how “slang is an art” and how “we will enrich our education through this tale of deliciously artful slang use.”
Shocking enough, I wasn’t all that sold on the book.
Mrs. Sunshine, as I’ll now refer to my darling English teacher as, proceeded to engage the class with her appreciation of the art of slang and I took it as my golden opportunity. I could start the book and put a dent in my twelve hours of homework, because how dare I get sleep, that’s ridiculous.
And I read. And I read. Goodness, how I read.
I had biology next period, an engaging class that I actually enjoy immensely. That day, we were talking about disease. I was intrigued and all, but what was really on my mind was: MY POOR LITTLE PONYBOY. THAT SOC’S BLADE COULD NOT HAVE BEEN CLEAN. WHAT DISEASES DID HE GIVE YOU?! YOU ARE NOT DYING ON MY WATCH, YOU SON OF A GUN.
In retrospect, Pony’s probably dying of lung cancer sooner than not, but hey. A girl’s got to have priorities.
Anywho, for the next few days, my life consisted of:
- Food?! I don’t need food. I have book.
- Sleep?! I don’t need sleep. I have book.
- Dearest family and friends, only interrupt me if you or the dogs are dying. You know the procedure.
- Well, Mrs. Sunshine, I wouldn’t call it “reading ahead”, exactly. Just “familiarizing myself with the entirety of the book before anybody else gets a shot”.
- Why can’t all boys be Sodapop Curtis, Ponyboy Curtis, and/or Johnny Cade?!
- OHHHHHHHHHH NO, NOT THAT, PLEASE NO, S.E. HINTON, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME, NO. NO, NO, NO, NOOOOO!!!
By the time I finished The Outsiders, I was so full of emotion that I just fell to the ground and cried a lot.
I cannot begin to tell you how much I adore the characters, or the plot, or the fact that S.E. Hinton chose a Robert Frost poem of all things to break my heart with. This novel could not be more perfect.
If I ever take it upon myself to procreate, I will read this book to my little imps over and over again and over again. They will laugh at how ridiculously outdated it is and I will send them directly to their rooms, because how dare they insult my poor, defenseless, switchblade-wielding greasers.
Golly, I’m so very in love with The Outsiders.
Please, go off and devour it and adore it and come back to me and thank me repeatedly for being such a wise human being and steering you in the path that made your life so much better.
I have that effect on people.
I just can’t believe that I may never have read this if not for Mrs. Sunshine.
What a sweaty, conniving meatball.