The Ledge
The Ledge
Then who shows up but Keira.
Keira, the ultimate twenty-first century goth girl. Keira who used to give me dirty looks when Olivia and I walked down the hall like we owned the place. Keira of the stud-heavy ears, pierced nose and tongue, clothes bought secondhand on Mars.
She stopped and just stood there, staring down at me. (Oh, did I say how much I hate everyone, and I mean everyone, staring down at me now that I am in the chair?) “You need some help, Nick?” she said, trying to sound polite.
“Not from you, girl freak,” I answered.
She blinked and scrunched up her lips, making the pin in her chin stick out a little. “Really?” she said, her voice a half octave higher.
“Really. So piss off, girl freak.” I don’t know why I felt like I had to use that word again.
Instead of walking away, she smiled. “Nicky,” she said. (And no one ever calls me Nicky except my grandmother.) “How refreshing. Finally someone around here who says what they really feel. And to my face, no less.” She stooped, picked up all three books and hugged them to her chest. But she didn’t hand them back to me. “So,” she said, “tell me what it’s like exactly in your own private freakdom. I’d really like to know.”
“Give me back my damn books,” I said, reaching out to her, one hand involuntarily curled into a fist.
“Not until you answer.”
I wasn’t about to play her game. I said nothing. I stared her down. She finally took the hint. She set the books down gently in my lap and walked away.
When the bus dropped me off at my physio appointment at the hospital, I told Ahmad about Keira. “Explain this ‘freak’ thing to me,” he said. I hear this expression but I don’t understand how people use it.
“It’s a word to describe people who are different. People who don’t fit in or who try hard not to fit in.”
“And that’s bad?”
“Yeah.”
Nick Peterson had been a typical teenage jock. Not too thoughtful, adrenaline-junkie, irresponsible. He had excelled at skateboarding, hockey, football and track before a fascination with surfing. He loved the cerebral puzzles of surfing - figuring out currents and angles - as well as the rush of bliss that came from catching a good wave. But he was reckless and surfed a dangerous break (the Ledge) alone, which left him paralyzed. Now he’s angry, isolated and confined to a motorized wheelchair.
Two people help him turn his life around. The first is Ahmad, his physical therapist, who doesn’t accept self-pity. He’s a refugee from Syria and perceptive enough to see that Nick needs some extra help. Nick meets Ahmad’s family, including Ocean, a cousin who lost his leg and his whole family in the Syrian war. Ocean’s angry and doesn’t feel sorry for himself, which Nick respects. Nick’s second new friend is Keira, the school’s resident weirdo goth. Nick has always made fun of her, but he notices that she is the only person who treats him like a regular guy and doesn’t make any special allowances for him. In turn, she is attracted to Nick’s honesty.
As these relationships allow Nick to develop emotionally, there is also an element of mystery and suspense: how did Nick make it to shore and who called the paramedics? Because he has been in a fog and his parents are in denial, the question floats unaddressed for a while. But it resurfaces when Nick describes an abortive attempt to find answers to Keira. She immediately springs into action. It’s always clear to the reader who saved Nick - an old surfer that local kids call The Wreck, a paranoid old loner. Keira tracks down the paramedics, and the kids learn about The Wreck, whose name is Arnie. They try to thank him, but he turns them away. Later, Keira, Ahmad, Ocean and Nick all go to see him and protect him from some teen thugs. This example of good triumphing brings some healing and closure for Nick.
The central theme of the story is one of compassion for outsiders. The strength of the book is that, by the end of the story, Nick has realized that being different, being a freak, is not a bad thing. He has learned that the most honest, compassionate, funny, artistic, smart people are all different, and that this is a strength, not a weakness. He has learned the courage to stand up to bullies, to speak his mind and to express who he is, rather than who he is supposed to be.
The Ledge offers a powerful story about how important it is for teens to be their own people and not to just follow the herd. Nick soon realizes that his old friendships were completely empty. His girlfriend quickly breaks up with him, and he isn’t the least bit surprised. The routines and relationships of his previous life turn out to have no depth and no worth. It is not until Nick opens himself to people with more substance that he starts to develop as an individual.
The story demonstrates different stages of coping with adversity in a way which is relevant to teens. Nick takes full responsibility for what happened to him and recognizes his own culpability. But initially, he also gives up. One of the lessons he learns is how to deal with hardship – by meeting people who have had to deal with bigger troubles. Nick is very self-aware, something which makes him an entertaining and relatable character. He knows full well he’s overdoing it on pain medication, but he doesn’t care. This foreshadowing of an opiate addiction might have been clumsy if it turned into an ‘issue’, but it is resolved in a non-melodramatic manner.
The Ledge offers opportunities to think and talk about a number of emotions, including fear, hope and loneliness. Nick was almost pathologically intent on conquering fears while acknowledging that fear can also prevent some people from doing anything at all. Readers might debate where to find a healthy middle ground. It also tackles the precarity of hope. “Suppose I bought into it and it turned out to be bullshit like so much else in life?” This is almost more than Nick can bear, so he dulls himself to the world. Nick is understandably depressed after his accident. People don’t know how to treat him and his parents withdraw, but it is only real human connections that rescue him.
The book is not full of tidy answers. Keira has challenges at home, which are only discussed briefly, and these issues mean she and Nick may or may not stay friends. Nick is no closer to connecting with his parents by the time the story ends. And while Nick regains some sensation in his legs, he may or may not gain more mobility. The important strands of the story are tied up, but it ends with a character who is in a realistic position, not with a fairy-tale conclusion.
While it is probably necessary to describe the accident (and this allows for some very nice technical writing about surfing), the exposition of Nick’s past is not as compelling as the scenes which take place in the present day. Choyce tries hard to create an authentic teen voice for Nick, but I didn’t always find it quite as convincing as it might have been. Because of that, the scenes of action and interaction are stronger than the passages where Nick is thinking or remembering to himself. There are also a couple of clumsy sections trying to link to topical issues. “Maybe this is all some kind of PTSD thing like what the news keeps talking about,” Keira says when Nick describes nightmares. However this awkward writing is only noticeable because it occurs so infrequently.
While The Ledge is a fairly typical reluctant reader novel for teen boys (not a lot of interest here for female readers), the book uses the brief length skillfully, incorporating several storylines and multiple valuable themes. This story is simple, but it contains much food for thought. Such a short book needs to be impeccably structured to keep from being one-dimensional, and Choyce achieves this task admirably.
Kris Rothstein is a children’s book agent, editor and cultural critic in Vancouver, British Columbia.