Robert Cormier (1925-2000) spent 30 years as a reporter and columnist for the Fitchberg, Massachusetts Sentinel, and lived his entire life in nearby Leominster, which served as the basis for the fictional city of Monument, the setting for many of his stories. Beginning in 1960, Cormier (pronounced COR me ay) published three adult novels; but it wasn’t until the 1974 publication of The Chocolate War, with its unsparing depiction of a corrupt and corrupting world, that he achieved notoriety. He followed this with twelve more young adult novels, a collection of short stories, and a novel told in verse.

Cormier’s writing took young adult fiction to a new level of psychological sophistication (for which he was harshly criticized); his characters struggle to make sense of their place in hyper-real worlds where adults are non-existent, corrupt or weak; where bullies rule by brute force; where a bland everyday exterior conceals a manipulative sociopath. This psychological struggle allegorically reflects the existential crucible of the teen years in our culture, and explains Cormier’s enduring popularity.

The Chocolate War

(1974, New York: Dell Laurel-Leaf). Cormier posited a closed world run by fear, where violence, and the threat of violence, was the only currency, invisible conformity the only survival strategy.  The claustrophobia is complete by the setting in a Catholic boys’ high school; in effect, all the characters are cloistered, removed from the everyday world of women and girls, or even parents.

Brother Leon, the school’s oleaginous headmaster, has overspent school funds in order to purchase double the usual amount of fundraising chocolates. As one of their notorious “assignments”, Jerry Renault, an unremarkable freshman, is initially ordered by the Vigils, the secret student organization, to refuse to sell the school’s fundraising chocolates. The Vigils then tell Jerry to sell the chocolates, but he refuses, setting off the “war”.

In observing how Jerry eventually lost the war, Cormier offers a disturbingly pessimistic vision of humanity and the corrosive nature of evil; unfortunately, unlike the denouement of Goldman’s The Lord of the Flies, there are no grownups to save us from ourselves.

Beyond the Chocolate War

(1985, New York: Dell Laurel-Leaf). Cormier revisits the scene of The Chocolate War, and expands its scope - the larger world intrudes, with its adults and girls.

The central character of Beyond is Obie, the assistant to Archie, the undisputed leader of the Vigils, Trinity’s secret student organization. The stage is set when Obie finds an interest outside the confines of Trinity and the Vigils: a girlfriend. Obie’s relationship with Laurie is all-consuming to him, in the manner of first love. Unfortunately, rumor of his membership in the Vigils, and their awful antics, cool Laurie’s interest, leaving Obie crushed and bent on revenge against Archie as the perceived author of his fate.

Meanwhile, Jerry (the central character of Chocolate War) must face his own fear: how does one live in dignity when violence is threatened at every turn? Cormier deftly handles these complex themes. Personal responsibility, ambiguity and the transience of human relationships are explored. Cormier provides no easy answers or certainties, only the possibility that hope exists (in equal measure to violence) if one has the moral courage to reach for it.

After the First Death

(1979, New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers).  At the core, this is a traditional suspense novel involving political terrorists and a hostage standoff.  Questions remain, however: did the military officer heading the negotiations sacrifice his teenage son’s life; and, will the teenage girl held hostage escape her fate? Unsentimental, and hence more realistic, in a way most best-sellers of the suspense genre are not.

The Bumblebee Flies Anyway

(1983, New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers).  A group of terminally ill teenage boys live in a mysterious medical complex; the story centers around Barney, an amnesiac who can remember no life before his residency there. Given a finite amount of time, and very little to connect them the larger world, what can these boys do to give meaning to what little life they have left? Cormier uses this extreme scenario to demonstrate how obeying one’s higher impulses of selflessness can result in transcendence-another beautiful fable.

8 Plus 1 (1991, New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers). These are a series of vignettes, each hinging on the illumination of one aspect of the human condition: a father facing his daughter’s growing up; the inviolability of mortality; a teenage boy seeing his father as just another human being. Cormier’s touch here is lighter than his novels, but his understanding of life is still much in evidence.

Fade

(1988, New York: Dell). Cormier uses the paranormal as an allegorical investigation of obsession: given the power to become invisible, how does 13-year-old Paul resist the temptation to witness and do things he would not otherwise see and be capable of, and at what terrible price? Fade is successful as a page-turning suspense novel, but lacks the psychological punch of his better work.

Frenchtown Summer (1999, New York: Dell-Laurel Leaf). Told in blank verse, this is a bittersweet ode to the mysteries of life as presented to a sensitive boy coming of age in the French-Canadian ghetto of fictional Monument, Massachusetts. Taking place over the course of a summer, we see a young man emerge to take his place in the world, with all its attendant joys and sorrows. 

Heroes (1998, New York: Dell-Laurel Leaf). Heroes works on many levels. Eighteen-year-old Francis returns from World War II a faceless hero, having lost it by falling on a hand grenade (and thereby saving the lives of his comrades). Francis enlisted in the army after he failed to stop his hero, Larry LaSalle, from raping his girlfriend, Nicole. His attempt at suicide a failure, Francis returns with the intent of regaining his innocence by killing Larry, also a war hero. Along the way, we meet other vets, and other examples of heroism. Cormier brilliantly questions the nature of heroism, responsibility and the loss of innocence.

I Am the Cheese

(1977, New York: Dell Laurel-Leaf). Interesting approach to teen as outsider: a boy’s struggle with madness is told from two perspectives, eventually revealing – what? That he faces an insoluble dilemma between acknowledging his story and being killed for the same. Although this lacks the moral force of Chocolate War, some teens may resonate with this bind from their own lives: in order to fit in, they must cut off the parts of themselves that they feel are unacceptable.

In the Middle of the Night (1995, New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers). Sixteen-year-old John Paul is employed as the head usher at the Globe Theater when the balcony collapses, killing 22 children. Although innocent, he becomes a target of hate for those who blame him for the accident, a martyrdom he willingly takes on, despite the chaos it brings to his life, and the lives of his wife and son. Twenty-five years later, John Paul’s sixteen-year-old son Denny must decide whether he will continue his father’s Messianic complex, or join in life, with all its disappointments, ambiguity and violence.

The Rag and Bone Shop (2001, New York: Dell Laurel-Leaf). Another claustrophobic study of the nature of evil: a seven-year-old girl is found dead, and the prime suspect is twelve-year-old Jason. Under pressure to “solve” the crime, the local police bring in a professional interrogator to extract a confession from him. Convinced of his innocence, the interrogator nevertheless does his job, awakening a slumbering evil in Jason’s heart.

Tenderness

(1997, New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers). A character study in extremis: Eric, a teenaged serial killer and Lori, a neglected 15-year-old girl are each searching for human connection, the “tenderness” of the title. Given the unexpected gift of Lori’s companionship, Eric becomes human; a moving exploration of the power of love.

Tunes for Bears to Dance to

(1992, New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers). Eleven-year-old Henry, cast adrift from his family by the accidental death of his beloved older brother, is caught between two polar opposites: obey his moral impulses and face material ruin; or submit to the petty tyranny of his employer, and see his family’s fortunes rise. In the end, Henry transcends the dilemma, and in so doing, finds the strength to overcome evil.

We All Fall Down

(1991, New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers). We All Fall Down investigates personal responsibility. Buddy Walker, depressed and alienated due to his parents’ impending divorce, wanders into the orbit of yet another of Cormier’s sociopaths, Harry Flowers.  As Flowers’ stooge, Buddy transgresses, and finds himself an accessory to assault, literally and metaphorically. Oblivion beckons Buddy as an alternative to the redemption he seeks; but is he willing to pay the price for it? A convincing parable on the beauty of morality (or lack of it).

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