Hank Makes a Stunning Debut

Adolescence can be particularly trying, though not half as trying as reading about it. Numerous flawed coming-of-age tales litter bargain bins and discount bookstores everywhere. Most attempts at capturing the magic of that unique transition from child to man fall short, relying on clichés which grow ever more worn with each use. Childhood becomes a time of pure joy and nostalgia, else it is a gauntlet of foster homes, neglect and other contrivances designed to elicit a sympathetic response.

Few novels have succeeded in capturing the essence of adolescence, but the likes of Tom Sawyer and Holden Caulfield are about to welcome the newest member to their ranks—a 13-year-old boy named Hank.

Written by first-time author and longtime educator Arch Montgomery, Hank is the first installment in The Gunpowder Trilogy. It details a summer in the life of the eponymous hero, Hank Collins, growing up in the suburbs of Baltimore, Maryland. Headstrong and precocious, he witnesses the dissolution of his family and faces challenges great and small on his lonely journey to maturity.

Bright as Hank is, his native rebelliousness lands him into trouble at school. His parents pay him little heed, allowing him to roam free. He quits his Little League team and spends his days riding along the paths of the Gunpowder River. Hank finds himself in situations which are exciting and eminently believable, from baseball games to paintball wars and illicit houseparties. He plays with his stepsiblings Jake and Stephie, and later joins some older men in a paintballing expedition that goes suddenly and frighteningly wrong. Throughout it all, he is forced to deal with the complications and hypocrisies of life with only the perspective of his limited years to guide him. Trouble has no need to come knocking; Hank’s own sense of adventure helps him find it with unsettling ease. He is saved only by his quick thinking, dumb luck and, as grudgingly as he might admit it, the wisdom of his elders.

At first glance, the slag-heap of trite and true elements already seems in place: the divorced parents, the unloving stepmother, the little rebellions, first love, academic woes and trouble with a capital T.

But Montgomery is no ordinary writer, and Hank is no ordinary book. From start to finish, Montgomery skillfully fashions a narrative that is raw, real and wholly rewarding.

Throughout the novel, he displays a deep and true understanding of modern youngsters and what makes them tick. Most impressive is Montgomery’s convincing use of the first-person; the entire narrative is related through the eyes of Hank. Before the first page is turned, one forgets that a 40-year-old gentleman has authored these words, so genuinely like a boy’s thoughts do they sound. Hank is so authentic that one sometimes feels the need to check for that standard disclaimer reminding us that these characters are only fictitious. Hank bursts from the pages, vibrant and flawed. We feel his pain, share his sorrows and rejoice in his triumphs.

The novel moves along at a breezy pace. There is a healthy balance between plot and introspection; the numerous dialogues and conversations are witty and captivating, making for a fun and interesting read. Hank wonders about the mysteries in life, in no particular order of importance. Questions of mortality and tolerance are balanced with musings on how a girl with a nose ring manages to keep the snot from her cheeks when she sneezes. And of course, like any 13-year-old boy, he is fascinated by the insoluble mystery of girls. The author does a commendable job of describing all the confused longings and awkward fumblings of a preteen boy in his first sexual experience.

Montgomery never shies away from important issues and never takes the easy way out in dealing with them. With a few deft strokes, he manages to compress every in-between shade of gray into the dialogue and actions of his characters. Like the state of the world it reflects, good and evil are not always so clear-cut. Part of Hank’s journey of growth entails understanding and dealing with that realization.

For example, homosexuality in Hank is neither sensationalized nor condemned; it is used to impart a message of tolerance. The first lesson is as subtle as a sledgehammer: Hank’s stepmother (whom he amusingly dubs Miss-Perfect-Lady Karen) berates Hank and Jake for casually slinging the word “fag” as an insult. Quivering with righteous indignation, she launches into a stern lecture that lacks impact for all its sincerity. The true lesson comes later when Hank befriends a homosexual couple and experiences the full vitriol of society’s hate and prejudice.

Local color adds tremendously to the novel; rather than set the tale in a generic Anytown, U.S.A., Montgomery places the action square in Baltimore. The reader will be delighted by small details like the Light Rail transit line and Dick’s Sporting Goods in Hunt Valley Mall (where one can actually buy paintball gear). Institutions and landmarks like the Baltimore Orioles and the Gunpowder River are not simply bandied about to lend an air of authenticity. Attention to such detail is crucial, as Montgomery uses his familiarity with fisherman’s lingo and military life to good advantage in his characterization of the minor players in the novel.

There is an understated elegance to the writing that enriches the flow of the story. It is never overtly flashy, never sacrificing function for form. When describing a girl with a penchant for eccentric dress, for example, Hank comments that “she claims she’s Goth, but she just reminds me of a car wreck that you go by on the Interstate. No matter what you see, it’s impossible to turn your eyes away.”

Little moments and anecdotes interspersed throughout contribute realism to the overarching theme. One of the novel’s memorable tableaus occurs on a trip to church, where everything manages to go wrong and yet be beautifully right. The priest delivers an archaic sermon filled with melodramatic images of good versus evil, when the altar boy accidentally steps in front of three powerful electric fans, sending the Communion wafers in his hands flying. As Hank recounts: “Poor old Harvey! Good old Mr. Finks! In St. George’s Church, Garrison Road, Owings Mills, Maryland that Sunday in July, we were all dodging wafers while fighting the temptation of the devil. It was rich, I’ll tell you that much.”

Arch Montgomery impresses in his incandescent debut. He shows a mastery of his craft and an unusually perceptive insight into the human heart. Hank has the potential to be a classroom staple in schools all across America. Powerful, moving and always interesting, it should be required reading for teachers, parents and anyone who has ever wondered exactly what goes on inside the heads of adolescents.

books

Hank

By Arch Montgomery

Bancroft Press

192 pp., $19.95