Mostly I enjoyed The Starplace, a young adult novel by a Vicki George. I liked the subject matter, the friendship between two eighth grade girls—one black, one white—in a small Oklahoma town in 1961. Now, as I've probably said before, after my twelve years of teaching at Alabama A&M University, stories with a racial angle pretty much always interest me. But since my enjoyment of The Starplace only rated a mostly, I'll start with the problem I had.
Yes, Miss Picky was again on my shoulder, and some references to events in 1961 bothered both of us—enough so that I just finished checking them out. The narrator's father watches a newscast about the Berlin Wall going up. My guess would have been that the wall was started in the 1950s, but I was wrong. Building began in August 1961; The Starplace begins right before the first day of school. Guess Ms George was right on that one. But she goes on to mention the panic it created and how atomic bomb drills—the old hide-under-your-desk routine, increased. It didn't feel right. I remember those drills as part of elementary school, which for me would have been the fifties. By 1961 I was in high school, and Starplace's narrator was in junior high. Drills under the desk just seem wrong.
My second picky point was a passing reference, specifically "the stores are full of blue-eyed Barbies and Kens." (page 118) 1961 seemed early. Fact checking revealed the first Barbie went on sale in 1959, Ken in 1961. All right, it is close, but come on, Martha. As a writer, what would you have done? The same as Vicki George, all the while hoping I'd never have a reader as picky as I can be. Actually, I would have left off Ken.
Now though, since I started out with possible negatives, let me dish out a few strongly felt pluses.
1) I'm a sucker for foreshadowing, and at one point in the novel both girls had made it into a select singing group called the Ladies of Harmony. A chapter ends with: "When I think of that title and then think of how things worked out that semester, I don't know whether to laugh or cry." With a come-on like that, there's no way I'll stop reading.
2) The Ladies of Harmony sing at a country club. The narrator remarks, "To this day, when I imagine true luxury, I picture myself coming up dripping out of a pool, sticking my feet into rubber flip flops, and walking thirty feet to get fed anything I want at a table with a white cloth and flowers." (page 155) That's as good a definition of luxury as I've ever read. (But now I wonder: when did rubber flip flops first appear? Stop it, Martha! Ok.)
3) I also enjoyed the author's sense of humor. The narrator goes horseback riding on the most gentle horse in the stable. And what's the gentle horse named? Heathcliff. Of course.
In addition to the specifics above, the story itself is pretty good. There's a house that could be haunted, a huge field covering an old mine where workers were routinely left to die, and a bit of history about the KKK. Who could ask for anything more?
