The Unforgivable Sins of Jennette McCurdy

Half His Age by Jennette McCurdy

Pages: 273 Genre: literary fiction

Rating: 1 Star

Waldo is 17-years-old, reckless, sexually ambitious, and wanting, and what she wants most of all is Mr. Korgy, her creative writing teacher who is married with a child. The Goodreads description includes more words, but that's all you need to know.

Following the release and rave reviews of her first book, the provocatively-named autobiography I'm Glad My Mom Died, people (it's me, I'm people) were intrigued by the announcement of her second book. This time fiction but equally provocative, Half His Age has an in-your-face cover and a shocking premise. This book was published, and that is the extent of what it accomplished. Instead of writing a book that lived up to its shock value, what we got was a messy, gross, boring book that shines a light on McCurdy's amateur writing.

I want to be clear: I understand what this book was going for. It's hard to miss the point when it is repeatedly laid out so clearly. But more than that, I understand how this book failed. I'm critiquing this book as the fictional narrative that it is, not casting a judgement on a hypothetically-real person who is the exact same as Waldo.

First of all, the names in this book are ridiculous. I'm already enough of a name snob in books, so this was barely tolerable. Why is her name Waldo? Mr. Korgy? Like the dog? There are so many names out there. It was so hard to take this book seriously because they have the stupidest names in the world. Sorry if you are named Waldo or Korgy.

The biggest selling point of this book — clearly riding off the high of the drama surrounding I'm Glad My Mom Died — was the shock value. It opens in the middle of a graphic sex scene and never lets up from there. We get to hear every single detail about Waldo's disgusting life and thoughts in a way that stops feeling realistic around page 3. It got old immediately, but it kept going.

At a certain point, it felt like it was overcompensating. If you hear a book is about a teenager being groomed by her teacher, you're going to assume that the book will be uncomfortable to read because of the concept. Something like Lolita. But that's not the case with this book. Korgy isn't the most manipulative (more on that later), he's honestly barely present for the relationship, and he's not overtly inappropriate. Outside of the nature situation itself, the book wouldn't actually be that uncomfortable of a read, which feels horrible to say because the situation, in the hands of a competent writer, should be enough to make the reader squirm a little. So, instead of building out this relationship with the care and intention it both requires and deserves, McCurdy throws in some of the most horrific but entirely irrelevant scenes to cover it up. Now any complaints can be brushed aside with, "well, it's supposed to be gross!" while ignoring that the scenes that make this book gross add nothing to the overall story.

I wish I felt comfortable explaining her biggest sins, but given the audience that typically reads my reviews and the fact that this is the Internet, I don't think I want that in my voice. You'll have to just take my word for it. One chapter had me physically recoiled from my book, and it was never addressed again.

The lack of consequences was another one of this book's biggest failings. The chapters are super short (1-4 pages, generally), and, with a few exceptions, they act like snapshots throughout the timeline. We don't follow Waldo through an experience, we are invited in through a few key moments. I think this was the wrong way to tell this story specifically because none of the scenes got to breathe. We're dragged from scene to scene with no real connection other than chronology, which makes big moments (again: often very gross moments) have no acknowledgement later on. It makes everything feel disconnected.

The writing was overall unimpressive, though. McCurdy leaned on a few writing crutches that made the whole thing feel repetitive and bland. The one that stood out to me the most was: "It's (a generally simple concept to understand). A thing. A thought. An unneeded explanation."

"They want a cultured woman. A woman who can read a book and sit through a ballet. A woman who values her body enough to not put it on display. A woman who respects herself." (pg. 24)

"I touch his desk. His Bic pens. His earth-toned paper clips. His mechanical pencils. His Magic Rub erasers and bright yellow highlighters, his ruled paper and hole punchers and the paper circles that rain out from them." (pg. 84 - she keeps going but you get the idea)

"I want to be fun. I want to be light. I want to be breezy and carefree and cool. ... To be content." (pg. 134)

"Or maybe I'm making up the glint. Putting something on Nolan that isn't there. Something that I secretly want to be there because it would make it easier for me to write him off. To feel okay about stringing him along." (pg. 188)

It's constant. It's non-stop. Sometimes it shifts in its delivery, but it's still there. Imposing. Overwhelming. Hard to miss.

It's annoying, right? Now imagine I wrote the entire review like that.

Most of the book is full of choppy sentences. Quick thoughts meant to punctuation all the important points; according to Waldo, that's every single thought that passes through her brain. No metaphors, no figurative language, no imagery. Just short sentences that get us right to the explanation. This is unsurprising, since Waldo and McCurdy seem to share an opinion on writing:

"Yeah, he's [Fitzgerald] not for me. What's that saying? 'The simplest explanation is almost always the best—" ... "Sure," I nod. "Occam's razor. That's how I feel about writing. I like writing that's simple. Plainly stated observations, no fluff. I don't want to hear, 'It was the kind of gray morning with air so frigid that it makes your bones wail like a creaking staircase.' I wanna hear: 'It was a cold Tuesday. My bones hurt.' Get to the point, you know?"

I think it's very brave to openly admit in your debut fiction novel that you're uninterested in good, interesting writing. I know that just because Waldo (who is meant to be young and immature) thinks something it doesn't mean McCurdy is endorsing it, but she wrote this book with this philosophy in mind. Maybe in the hands of a more competent writer, this style could be executed well. But look at the two openings that Waldo/McCurdy presented us with: which book would you rather read? If it's the second one, well. Maybe you wouldn't benefit from my reviews.

I hated the writing on a smaller scale too, because I found both Waldo and Korgy to be some of the worst characters I've ever encountered. Waldo was a monster, genuinely. She's rude, judgemental, and unkind to everyone she encounters. She treats everyone with disdain and judgement and then has the nerve to act like she is an outcast. Waldo, you are an outcast because no one wants to be around you. She hates everything except Mr. Korgy. Genuinely does not have one single hobby or interest. She's vaguely into online shopping, except (because of the bad writing style) she's fully conscious about the fact that she hates doing it. In fact, her biggest flaw is that she is too conscious of everything. She knows she's desperate for Korgy's attention, she knows he treats her poorly, she knows when she's being manipulated, and she has an explanation ready for everyone's behavior. Nothing is left up to the reader, which leaves me with the thought: How did you end up in this situation?

I get it. She's an imperfect victim. First of all, that's not exactly a revolutionary concept. Second, she's not an imperfect victim because of nuance, which is what makes a book and character interesting. She's an imperfect victim because McCurdy didn't trust her readers enough and therefore accidentally gave us a character that reads as if she groomed herself. Once again, I feel the need to clarify that I know that this is not how it works in real life, and an adult in Korgy's position can and should always find a way to not let the feelings of a child reach this point, even if it is a teenager who is aggressively pursuing them. A safe adult would never let this happen. But this is not a real situation with real people. Waldo is a fictional character written poorly.

Also, she's mean and horrible. Waldo also manages to avoid any character development. I think the ending is meant to feel cathartic and freeing, but it's entirely unearned. She begins the book as reckless and selfish and she ends the book as reckless and selfish, just in a different way. I suppose I won't outright spoil one of the only two plot points that kind of surprised me, but let's just say that Waldo's boredom is not the same thing as development.

Korgy is not much better. He is about as interesting as a beige wall, and he is about as involved as one too. His general pathetic-ness could've been an interesting choice to oppose the typical way abusers are depicted, but instead it made him bland and boring. He was sort of just along for the ride, along for whatever Waldo wanted him to do (see my disclaimer above about "not real people" again). Their chemistry — which would've been a gross and uncomfortable inclusion that made sense — was nonexistent. He had some details and backstory that were forgettable and generic. It seemed like McCurdy felt like a villain only needs to do bad things to be considered a good, well-rounded character, but that is not true.

I just hated everything about this book. It wasn't challenging or impactful, it was boring and gross and ridiculous. Any reflections that were made on the real world — the grooming, the capitalism and beauty culture, the way women are expected to behave in relationships — were surface-level at best. The only positives to having read this book were that it was quick (I was able to finish it faster) and that it takes place in Alaska, which I could color in on my map of book settings for the year. After I publish this review, I never want to think about this book again.