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A review by tasmanian_bibliophile
Snake Bite by Christie Thompson
4.0
‘I drank because I was young and dumb and bored and wanted a laugh with my mates. I took pills because it made me happy.’
Jez is a seventeen year old teenager, living in Canberra’s Tuggeranong Valley with her alcoholic single mum Helen. Jez is sort of celebrating the end of year 11 with another body piercing, but she’s bored and in the absence of money or prospects there isn’t much to look forward to.
Jez is hanging out with her friend Lukey, but when Laura from Melbourne moves into the neighbourhood Lukey seems to prefer Laura’s company. This naturally adds to Jez’s angst and she ends up spending time with her next door neighbour, Casey. Casey has way more experience than Jez and is utterly self-absorbed. Casey’s not really the best of influences, but she has a very attractive older brother and two parents. A family, in other words, no matter how dysfunctional. Jez has Helen, but Helen is an embarrassment to Jez.
This is the story of Jez’s summer: of parties, drugs, and sometimes of the consequences of choice. It’s also a story about teenagers and adults making the best of tough situations and circumstances. It’s a side of Canberra that people outside don’t often encounter or think about – but they’d recognise it instantly in the outer suburbs of other cities. We’ve all seen alienated teenagers, and some of us may recognise younger generations of ourselves. The drugs of choice, the tribal identities and costumes may have changed but developed-world teenage angst has its recognisable forms. Of course, not all teenagers are like Jez and her friends: some can see a hopeful place in the future for themselves. But not Jez.
‘That really got me thinking – a lot of that femi-nazi shit is fine for chicks smart enough to go to university and get proper jobs. And then those smart women with good jobs whinge about how men get all the better paying jobs or whatever. What are the rest of us supposed to do? I wondered.’
It’s a confronting novel in many ways: those of us who’ve survived our own teenage angst will know that we didn’t all make it through and may regret some choices made along the way. And role models are so important. But if you’ve been there, then it’s hard not to relate to the despair and loneliness of perceived difference and disadvantage, of wanting to belong.
If you can get into the contemporary codes, language and style of Jez and her peers, and acknowledge the good and bad of the different parenting modes described, it’s possible to see some hope for the future. Can Jez (and others) move beyond a passive acceptance of bad luck and poor management? Can they make a better future for themselves? Perhaps. Maybe. Have teenagers changed much in the past 40 years? Hmm.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
Jez is a seventeen year old teenager, living in Canberra’s Tuggeranong Valley with her alcoholic single mum Helen. Jez is sort of celebrating the end of year 11 with another body piercing, but she’s bored and in the absence of money or prospects there isn’t much to look forward to.
Jez is hanging out with her friend Lukey, but when Laura from Melbourne moves into the neighbourhood Lukey seems to prefer Laura’s company. This naturally adds to Jez’s angst and she ends up spending time with her next door neighbour, Casey. Casey has way more experience than Jez and is utterly self-absorbed. Casey’s not really the best of influences, but she has a very attractive older brother and two parents. A family, in other words, no matter how dysfunctional. Jez has Helen, but Helen is an embarrassment to Jez.
This is the story of Jez’s summer: of parties, drugs, and sometimes of the consequences of choice. It’s also a story about teenagers and adults making the best of tough situations and circumstances. It’s a side of Canberra that people outside don’t often encounter or think about – but they’d recognise it instantly in the outer suburbs of other cities. We’ve all seen alienated teenagers, and some of us may recognise younger generations of ourselves. The drugs of choice, the tribal identities and costumes may have changed but developed-world teenage angst has its recognisable forms. Of course, not all teenagers are like Jez and her friends: some can see a hopeful place in the future for themselves. But not Jez.
‘That really got me thinking – a lot of that femi-nazi shit is fine for chicks smart enough to go to university and get proper jobs. And then those smart women with good jobs whinge about how men get all the better paying jobs or whatever. What are the rest of us supposed to do? I wondered.’
It’s a confronting novel in many ways: those of us who’ve survived our own teenage angst will know that we didn’t all make it through and may regret some choices made along the way. And role models are so important. But if you’ve been there, then it’s hard not to relate to the despair and loneliness of perceived difference and disadvantage, of wanting to belong.
If you can get into the contemporary codes, language and style of Jez and her peers, and acknowledge the good and bad of the different parenting modes described, it’s possible to see some hope for the future. Can Jez (and others) move beyond a passive acceptance of bad luck and poor management? Can they make a better future for themselves? Perhaps. Maybe. Have teenagers changed much in the past 40 years? Hmm.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith