Review: Every You, Every Me by David Levithan

Every You, Every Me. by David Levithan. September 13, 2011. Knopf Books for Young Readers. 245  pages. ISBN:  9780375860980

After Ariel goes away, Evan can't stop thinking about her. He still hangs out with his friends, but he also makes a point of remaining close to Ariel's former boyfriend, Jack, the only other person who can possibly understand what he's going through, and his role in Ariel's situation. When a mysterious photographer starts leaving photos for Evan to find - photos containing images of Ariel as well as himself - he becomes completely obsessed with figuring out who is delivering them, what that person knows, and why he or she would want to torment Evan. What he learns, in the end, is shocking, and proves Ariel's theory: "You know one me. Just like I know one you. But you can't know every me, Evan. And I can't know every you."

This haunting novel is an interesting piece of experimental fiction, which David Levithan wrote as a collaboration with photographer Jonathan Farmer. Farmer sent Levithan one photo at a time, and Levithan pieced together his story based on the photographs. The result, though mainly successful, is not without flaws. For one thing, I think the framework of the story is inherently a cop-out when it comes to integrating the photos. By creating a story in which a mysterious source delivers a series of photographs, Levithan makes it very easy to use each photo, regardless of what might appear in it. The collection as a whole is arguably important to the plot, but each individual photo has little meaning on its own. The photos undoubtedly inspired the story, but I'm not sure they are essential to it.

A second problem is Levithan's main character. Evan is filled to the brim with angst, and it's important for the reader to buy into that angst early on in order to stick with the book. I managed to accept that Ariel's loss loomed so large in Evan's day to day life that he truly couldn't shake it, and some of the secondary characters' commentary on his unhealthy obsession also helped, because at least some part of the narrative recognizes that Evan is not functioning normally. But it still felt like a lot - especially compared with a character like Levithan's Will from Will Grayson, Will Grayson, whose depression was present in the book, but not nearly so overbearing. Readers who can't stomach the angst - and I think there will be many, judging from reactions I've already seen on Goodreads - will not give the book the attention I think it deserves.

I do think Every You, Every Me, is worthy of praise. Levithan's previous books have always been very poetic and philosophical in a wordy and descriptive way. The text in this book, though emotional, is more concise, cutting to the heart of matters much more quickly and decisively. The language isn't as superficially pretty as in his other books, but I actually think that makes it stronger. I do wonder about the decision to publish what is essentially a writing exercise, but if there is an audience for John Green's Looking for Alaska and for A Separate Peace by John Knowles, both of which deal with very similarly dramatic friendships, then there is certainly room for one more teen novel about an important, high-stakes, and utterly ruined relationship. I recommend it highly, even to those who will dislike it, because it will undoubtedly spark intelligent discussion among all readers of young adult literature.

I borrowed Every You, Every Me from my local public library. 

For more about this book, visit Goodreads and Worldcat.