Book Review: Every You, Every Me

Every You, Every Me
By David Levithan
Knopf
Publication date: September 13, 2011
ISBN: 978-0375860980

"Concept novels" are huge right now. Mark Danielewski comes to mind first, then Jonathan Safran Foer. Both experimented in different ways, adding color to text, crossing out words, scrambling words together, turning text upside down. Then there are the photographic books, telling a full story through snippets of newspaper scans, drawings, photographs, or actual items. The idea has had its time in adult fiction, so it's only natural that it spread into young adult novels. In David Levithan's newest book, he uses text to tell the story, and photos to illustrate what the main character is seeing. It's an interesting concept, one that definitely brings the reader into a story where photographs are extremely important. He also employs crossed out text to show what the main character is thinking, despite not wanting to think it.

Evan's best friend Ariel is gone. He blames himself, even though he thought what he did was right. Since her departure, he's been suffering from insomnia, as well as overwhelming angst and depression. And then he finds a photograph in the woods. The photo is of the place that he's standing. The next day, he finds a photo in the same place. This time, the photo is of him. As the novel progresses, Evan is taunted by more and more photographs, some showing Ariel, some of him, and some of moments he didn't know others knew about. As the psychological novel progresses, he becomes paranoid, unraveled and obsessed with his stalker. His thoughts become muddled between the present and his past with Ariel, to the point that, despite her being gone, he wonders if it's Ariel playing a big trick on him.

Initially, I was intrigued with how the book was put together. Levithan based the initial idea around a photo photographer Jonathan Farmer took. He then started writing. Farmer would send him a photo, unaware of what Levithan wrote. Levithan then continued his story, using that photograph as what the "stalker" left for Evan. The fact that neither were communicating, and that art was influencing, well, art, was fascinating. I thought this process really made the book unique.

And unique it was. Told in first person (often addressing Ariel in the "you" tense), you go through every thought, every emotion Evan is going through. His voice is solid, perfectly written, and beautifully embracing the slow progression of paranoia. The crossed out text adds to the craziness, blurring the lines of what's happening in real life, and what's in his head. He's angsty, crazed, and trying to understand life without Ariel.

While a major character, Ariel (who's more manic than manic pixie dreamgirl) is mostly shown through flashbacks, snippets of thoughts Evan experiences while trying to put the puzzle pieces together. This was smart, as it further explores the major theme of the book: there's never a single version of a person. That is, every character saw a different version of Ariel. (Thus the title, based off the Placebo song of the same title.) As Evan starts to realize this, he wonders if he really knew his best friend at all.

The "concept" aspect worked extremely well in this novel, and I'm excited to see it employed. My main complaint, however, is that despite understanding his pain, I never really loved Evan. He had a strong voice, but I couldn't quite get into him. I wanted something to make me like him, rather than feel sorry for him. Same with Ariel, for that matter. She was interesting, but I didn't love her. (She reminded me very much of the love interest in Levithan's other novel, The Lover's Dictionary.)

It's an intense book, that's for sure, lacking in cheeriness and happiness. But for a young adult psychological thriller, it's very well done. I read it through in one morning, and definitely enjoyed it. Levithan's style shines through, and I can see him continuing to experiment long after this.