Notes on Crank

Is a YA novel about drugs and sex more likely to endanger teens or to save their lives?

In a novel recently targeted for banning in Texas, a kid flunks out of school and runs away from home. On a long weekend bender in New York City, he indulges in mind-altering substances and spends a night with a prostitute. There’s also suicidal ideation, mental illness, misogyny, and homophobia.

The novel is The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, which has been recognized as a classic ever since its publication nearly seventy-five years ago. Its accolades include a spot on Modern Library’s list of 100 best English-language novels of the twentieth century; a BBC critic called it “the defining work on what it is like to be a teenager.”

My copy of Catcher in the Rye fell apart long ago, but it looked like this one.

If a new bill currently before the Texas House becomes law, teachers and libraries could face criminal penalties for giving students access to Catcher in the Rye and other classic works that include “sexually explicit” elements. As Rebecca Crosby and Noel Sims report in Mother Jones, the bill removes a provision that allows teachers to argue that the content has an educational purpose.

It seems likely that this bill will be defeated—the list of books it could be used against is simply too large. In addition to Catcher in the Rye, Crosby and Sims note that it could apply to Brave New World, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and even The Odyssey.

But this bill is just one salvo in a deeply disturbing drive by conservatives in Texas, Florida, and elsewhere to restrict teenagers’ access to certain materials, primarily those with LGBTQ+ or sexual content. Another new bill currently before the Texas House allows local school boards, not librarians, to decide which new books to include in school libraries and makes it easier for parents to challenge library books, which are removed from shelves while their status is pending. As I wrote earlier, one book activitsts have targeted recently is the graphic adaptation of Anne Frank’s diary, which includes a passage in which Anne discusses her attraction to another girl and another in which she describes her genitalia.

To better understand exactly what these groups are trying to ban, I decided to read some of the most frequently targeted books. The first one I chose was Crank by Ellen Hopkins, which came out in 2004 and has been a favorite of book banners ever since. What I found surprised me—and left me newly aware of the complexities of the situation.

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Kristina’s parents are divorced; she lives in Reno with her mother, her sister, and her stepfather. On a visit to her father in Albuquerque, she meets Adam, who introduces her to crank. (The real name of the drug is never given, but it’s clearly meth.) She returns home hooked. Within the space of a few months, as her addiction grows all-consuming, she moves from using casually to dealing. Broken-hearted by Adam’s lack of interest in a long-distance relationship, she gets involved with a series of boys (one of whom rapes her) and eventually becomes pregnant.

The book is written in free verse and told entirely from Kristina’s perspective, in an extended monologue. Sometimes the language is jerky and halting; elsewhere, it’s s flowing and lyrical, especially when she is describing the power of the drug. A chapter titled “Ecstasy is hard to describe” opens: “It’s like / falling softly into a pool of crystal mountain water / floating on your back circular beneath vibrant sky / deciphering codes in the clouds spinning dizzy fast.”

More than the explicit (and sometimes violent) depictions of sex, these lines gave me pause. Someone who reads and understands the whole novel will have no doubt about the negative impact of the drug on Kristina’s life. But what about a kid who isn’t a sophisticated reader—or who doesn’t finish the book, which is 576 pages in paperback, albeit with a lot of white space? Considering recent reports about the decline in teenage literacy, both seem likely.

Christopher Lau, a high school student from Queens who started an organization that fights book banning and promotes diversity in literature, praises Crank as “a book that doesn’t sugarcoat reality” but speaks to the experiences of “a teenager facing life’s toughest challenges … in a way that feels honest and true.” In an interview with Lau for his YouTube channel, Hopkins speaks movingly about “thousands” of readers who have come to her with stories about how her books changed their lives. (In addition to Crank, she’s the author of numerous other novels dealing with addiction, suicide, and sexuality.) Those who think her books are too dark, she says, “don’t really understand a lot of the things that young people go through.”

I finished Crank feeling torn. As a parent, I wouldn’t want my child to stumble upon it by accident in the school library. This is a book I’d hope a parent or teacher would discuss with a child to make sure they absorbed the entire message. For this reason, I can see the benefit of keeping it on a shelf restricted to older teens.

At the same time, as a young teen I read many books that were “inappropriate”: Forever by Judy Blume (teenage sex), Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews (teenage sex and incest), The Best Little Girl in the World by Steven Levenkron (basically a how-to manual for anorexics). Did I read them critically? Definitely not. But I also don’t think they did any lasting damage.

Perhaps that’s because I grew up as a sheltered white kid in a privileged middle-class environment. Still, in the end it seems less likely that a book like Crank will turn an innocent kid on to drugs—and far more likely that it could provide a lifeline for someone with no other place to look for help.

Have you read Crank? Do my thoughts resonate with you? Please let me know in the comments.

My next “banned book” will be The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. I’ll discuss it here in another month or so—please read along if you’re interested!

Where I’ll be

June 6–8: Hobart Festival of Women Writers. Ever since my first visit to Hobart, a magical town in the northern Catskills filled with secondhand bookstores, I’ve hoped to take part in this festival. I’m taking part in a reading on June 7 at 1 p.m. and teaching a criticism workshop on June 8 at 9 a.m. Register here.

June 9, 7 p.m.: Scribblers on the Roof, Ansche Chesed, 251 West 100th St., New York City. In conversation with Judith Shulevitz.

June 11, 7 p.m.: Online event sponsored by CUNY. Details to come.

June 12, 8 p.m.: Jewish Women’s Archive (online), in conversation with Judith Rosenbaum. More info and registration here.

June 18, 7:30 p.m.: Big Red Books, 120 Main St., Nyack, NY, in conversation with Ross Benjamin. More info here.

June 26, 2:30 p.m.: Leo Baeck Institute Book Club (online). Register here.

As ever,

Ruth