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by Keith Taylor
posted 5/13/2011
Rachel DeWoskin grew up in Ann Arbor, and her new novel, Big Girl Small, makes it clear that she remembers it well. Here her smart and witty protagonist, Judy, tries to imagine what the city might have been like before she was born, back in the 1980s:
the place would have had more boutiques and fewer strip malls, the same stadium and roads, but I always picture it as an old-fashioned college town, music pouring out the windows of Hill Auditorium, dancers in the shadows at Power Center, the Brown Jug lit up on campus, open all night. That's where Michigan students sat drinking thin, pre-Starbucks coffee out of cream-colored diner mugs.Judy's voice, her humor, her biting adolescent sarcasm do a lot more than just skewer her hometown. She uses language to protect herself. The first paragraph begins--"When people make you feel small, it means they shrink you down close to nothing, diminish you, make you feel like shit"--and it ends--"I know that small and shit are the same because I'm sixteen years old and three feet nine inches tall." Judy joins that subset of great characters who view the world from a smaller size, but this time the character is a teenaged girl trying to navigate a very familiar Ann Arbor. She is funny, but she is also smart. She has figured out how people use language and how they forget about its power. She knows "where the lines are between being funny and being brutal." And she wonders:
. . . why it is that everywhere I look, other people seem to be crossing those boundaries constantly? Jumping, falling, leaping over the line from banter into cruelty. Sometimes it's on purpose and other times it's by accident, but in any case, people savage each other. Maybe they can't help it.And much of the rest of this novel is a deeply troubling story of the cruelty Judy--whom DeWoskin has carefully taught us to love--is made to
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