Stoner & Spaz by Ron Koertge

A funny, in-your-face novel starring an unlikely teenage pair - a sheltered cinemaphile with cerebral palsy and the tattooed, straight-talking stoner who steals his heart. For sixteen-year-old Ben Bancroft - a kid with cerebral palsy, no parents, and an overprotective grandmother - the closest thing to happiness is hunkering alone in the back of the Rialto Theatre watching Bride of Frankenstein for the umpteenth time. Of course he waits for the lights to dim before making an entrance, so that his own lurching down the aisle doesn't look like an ad for Monster Week. The last person he wants to run into is drugged-up Colleen Minou, resplendent in ripped tights, neon miniskirt, and an impressive array of tattoos. But when Colleen climbs into the seat beside him and rests a woozy head on his shoulder, Ben has that unmistakable feeling that his life is about to change. With unsparing humor and a keen flair for dialogue, Ron Koertge captures the rare repartee between two lonely teenagers on opposite sides of the social divide. It's the tale of a self-deprecating protagonist who learns that kindred spirits can be found for the looking - and that the incentive to follow your passion can be set into motion by something as simple as a human touch. Editorial Reviews Amazon.com Review Colleen Minou is a hard-core stoner, a girl whose motto is, I'll get high and do anything. Ben Bancroft is a movie-addicted preppie who suffers from cerebral palsy, the resident spaz, invisible as the sign that says NO RUNNING, the one no one pays attention to. Together, they form the most unlikely couple since Dharma and Greg. He's Brooks Brothers, she's Salvation Army. He's never even smoked a cigarette, she's got 20 different chemicals running through her veins. But when these two lonely teens meet one night at Ben's favorite hang, the Rialto (a classic film theatre that smells like butter from the Paleozoic), sparks fly. At least for Ben they do. Maybe it's because Colleen's the first girl to ever really notice him, to have the nerve to tease him about his disability instead of pretend it's not there. For once, Ben is actually more interested in his real life than a movie. Colleen takes him clubbing, lights his first joint, even challenges him to direct his own movie. But when Ben, in turn, dares her to stay straight, Colleen admits that, despite his devotion, she still needs the drugs to smooth out the edges. Is Ben capable of convincing her otherwise? If not, how will he ever be cured of his Colleen addiction? Author of the acclaimed Brimstone Journals, Ron Koertge's wry depiction of this car wreck of a relationship is sharply observed and wholly original. Teen readers will have a tough time turning the last page of this oddly endearing, screwball love story. (Ages 13 and older) --Jennifer Hubert From Publishers Weekly erhaps not since Harold and Maude has there been such a likable unlikely romance. Since I've been pretty much treading water all day, the marquee of the Rialto Theatre looks like the prow of a ship coming to save me, begins narrator Ben Bancroft, a 16-year-old who has cerebral palsy. Koertge's (The Brimstone Journals) opening scene sets in motion the novel's key elements: Ben's black humor and his love for movies, both of which keep him afloat, and his chance face-to-face meeting there with Colleen Minou, a drug addict (who looks like Helena Bonham Carter in Fight Club... pretty in an edgy, ruined way). After Ben meets a new neighbor who happens to have made a short documentary for a film class (the novel, after all, is set in Los Angeles), he starts one of his own, High School Confidential. Thanks to Ben's nc. From Publishers Weekly erhaps not since Harold and Maude has there been such a likable unlikely romance. Since I've been pretty much treading water all day, the marquee of the Rialto Theatre looks like the prow of a ship coming to save me, begins narrator Ben Bancroft, a 16-year-old who has cerebral palsy. Koertge's (The Brimstone Journals) opening scene sets in motion the novel's key elements: Ben's black humor and his love for movies, both of which keep him afloat, and his chance face-to-face meeting there with Colleen Minou, a drug addict (who looks like Helena Bonham Carter in Fight Club... pretty in an edgy, ruined way). After Ben meets a new neighbor who happens to have made a short documentary for a film class (the novel, after all, is set in Los Angeles), he starts one of his own, High School Confidential. Thanks to Ben's nc. From School Library Journal Grade 9 & Up--Sixteen-year-old Ben Bancroft has cerebral palsy, no parents, an overprotective grandmother, and a pretty sorry life as far as he's concerned. He finds solace sitting alone in the back of the Rialto Theatre, watching old horror movies. One day, when he's watching Bride of Frankenstein for the umpteenth time, Colleen Minou, a notorious basket case and druggie at Ben's high school, plops down in the seat next to him and proceeds to place her woozy head on his shoulder. Thus begins the uneasy friendship between the odd pair. Ben's grandmother is horrified by this foulmouthed, thoroughly tattooed flake who dresses in miniskirts and tights, but he is too taken with her to care. The friendship between Ben and Colleen evolves and eventually blossoms into romance and then a sexual relationship. Both teens are desperately searching for self-acceptance, and they each make valiant attempts to help the other find it. The generous friendship of his neighbor and mentor also nudges Ben out of his shell and gives him a means of self-expression through filmmaking. Koertge displays his usual flair for creating believable characters, genuine dialogue, and some wonderfully humorous moments. Ben's apprehension and awkwardness with Colleen and her almost complete obliviousness to everything in the world around her rings true. Their need for a sense of belonging and their efforts to find it in one another are themes to which readers will certainly relate. Edward Sullivan, White Pine School, TN Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information, Inc. From Booklist (*Starred Review*) Gr. 8-12. Benjamin Bancroft, a 16-year-old with cerebral palsy, strikes up a startling friendship with Colleen Minou, the school's infamous druggie, much to his prim grandmother's horror. Colleen is an unlikely self-esteem booster and aphrodisiac, talking, teasing, then touching, kissing, and seducing Ben. And he has a surprising effect on her: she becomes less abrasive and even occasionally sober. Stoner and Spaz are good for each other. This is vintage Koertge. Funny, touching, and surprising, it is a hopeful yet realistic view of things as they are and as they could be. Few authors write better dialogue than Koertge, and he is at his best in this short, fast-moving novel, using Ben and Colleen's repartee to reveal both their longings and insecurities. The temptation will be to compare this with Terry Trueman's Stuck in Neutral (2000), yet that would be unfair to both books. This is a realistic story, and Ben is high-functioning, a teenager we often see at school, the movies, in the workplace. The first-person narrative is Ben's, but the human face, the fully developed personality of Ben Bancroft, is revealed through Colleen's drug-enhanced innocence and acceptance. Didactic? No. Revealing and consciousness raising? Absolutely. Buy several copies. Frances Bradburn Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved Review I like this book a lot, and I LOVE Ben. We need all the truth we can handle about kids like Ben and Colleen, and Ron Koertge's writing feels deeply, sometimes painfully, true, - Terry Trueman, author of STUCK IN NEUTRAL, a Michael L. Printz Honor Book 2000 - None About the Author Ron Koertge is the author of several acclaimed novels, including THE BRIMSTONE JOURNALS. Of STONER & SPAZ, he says, My wife works with the disabled. One night she came home and told me about a young man she'd been working with. He had C.P. and a terrific sense of humor. Coincidentally, that day I had talked to a former student of mine who'd recently been in rehab for substance abuse. What would happen, I wondered, if those two knew each other? Two months later-the first draft of STONER & SPAZ. Ron Koertge lives in South Pasadena, California. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. For a couple of days I don't see Colleen. Which disappoints me. Which reminds me of why I am what I am: a bit player in the movie of life. Listed at the tag end of the credits: Crippled Kid. Before Thug #1 but after Handsome Man in Copy Shop. Then my phone rings and I lunge for it. It has to be her. Nobody calls me. I mean that. Nobody. My answering machine probably has cobwebs in it. Without saying hello or anything, she asks, I was talking to some kids at school about you. What happened to your mom? I fall back on the bed, relieved and excited. Nobody knows. She just split. I roll onto my side. Turn on AMC. Check out how John Ford shoots this scene so it looks like John Wayne is about a hundred feet tall. As I watch, I hear the raspy sound of a Bic lighter, then her quick intake of breath. I thought John Wayne actually was a hundred feet tall. The Searchers is still really popular. Do you know the story? Ethan totally devotes his life to finding this niece of his that the Comanches kidnapped. I guess most people like the idea of somebody who'll just look for them and look for them and never give up no matter how long it takes. My father disappeared, too. When? Like about a second after I was born, I guess. Even John Wayne couldn't find that son of a bitch. You don't want to go look for him ever? No way. Do you want to find your mom? Sometimes. Around the holidays, usually. When it's just Grandma and me and a turkey as big as a VW. Do you know Ms. Johnson? The sociology teacher? And resident feminist. She says sometimes women split because they have to. She says sometimes they have to be true to themselves. So it's not always because some kid is dragging his foot around the house? That's when Grandma knocks softly on my half-open door. I turn my back on her and whisper into the phone, Looks like I better go. Colleen whispers back, Me, too, if I want to keep up with my regimen of self-destructive behavior. Grandma leads me into the living room. This is never a good sign. I hope I didn't disturb you, Benjamin. That's okay. I was just talking to a, uh, friend. How nice! I can almost see the exclamation point, and it means she's surprised I have a friend. I'm not getting into that. Did you want to talk to me? Yes, I spoke to the new neighbor this morning. She seems very pleasant, and I thought it would be a nice gesture if we invited her for brunch. She holds out an envelope, one of her ritzy cream-colored ones. It's a bit on the short-notice side, but I've got leukemia next week, then UNICEF, and before you know it the whole Tournament of Roses thing begins in earnest. Our phone number's right at the bottom in case she isn't home, but I believe she is. You want me to take this over now? It's barely dark. I don't think she'd be alarmed. Then she looks down at my sweats, the ones she sends to the cleaners. In old-fashioned cartoons there are always rich women looking at things through these glasses-on-a-stick. That is my grandma. She pretty much looks at everything like she has glasses-on-a-stick. Including me. Especially me. Would you mind changing, dear, since you're going to go out-of-doors? For somebody with C.P., changing clothes is no piece of cake. The good side has to help the bad side, so it takes a little while. And if I'm not careful, I'll get all my clothes off and see myself in the mirror. And that is something I try never to do. Fifteen minutes later, I'm standing on the curb, still sweating from the struggle. God, I hate getting dressed. It always reminds me of how I am. A couple of SUVs glide by, both of them driven by the littlest mommies in the world, like there's some place called Inverse Proportion Motors and the smaller you are, the bigger the car you have to buy. Lurching across the empty street, I wave at Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong, who sit on their porch every evening and stare at the Neighborhood Watch sign with its sinister cloaked figure. I make my way up the walk of 1003 between borders of purple lobelia. The lights are on. Music seeps out from under the oak door. Just in case the doorbell's broken, I tap with the little bridle that hangs from the brass horse's head. When I hear footsteps I announce, Hi, I'm a neighbor. From across the street. The door opens. A woman in a striped caftan says, Yes, can I help you? Her black hair is short and shot through with gray. She has quick-looking eyes and sharp features. If some people look smoothed by hand, this lady is machine made. I tell her my name and why I've come. Marcie Sorrels. She's holding a drink with her right hand, so she sticks out the other one. I show her my bad arm, the fingers curled into a pathetic little fist. Not a stroke, I hope. C.P. But not dyskinetic. No, spastic. Ah, well, you were lucky. That's the title of my autobiography: Ben, the Lucky Spaz. She opens the door wider. Why don't you come inside and be hard on yourself? All of a sudden, I just want to throw Grandma's envelope at her feet and get out of there. What does she know? I think. Who does she think she is, anyway? And then I wonder if I'm having a heart attack, because I've never thrown anything at anybody in my life, not even a baseball. Well, for sure not a baseball. Where does all that emotion come from? Is it just from hanging around Colleen, who's so famous for going off on teachers she has a permanent seat in detention? STONER & SPAZ by Ron Koertge. Copyright (c) 2002 by Ron Koertge. Published by Candlewick Press, Inc., Cambridge, MA.