Jason Reynolds is crazy. About stories. Jason Reynolds is also tired. Of being around young people who are tired of feeling invisble. So he writes books (a bunch of books) and has even won some awards, but none of them are as important as a young person saying they feel seen. The more that happens, the less tired Jason is. But either way, he'll still be crazy. About stories. About you. Check him out at jasonwritesbooks.com.
Sixty seconds. Seven floors. Three rules. One gun. Will's older brother, Shawn, has been shot. Dead. Will feels a sadness so great, he can't explain it. But in his neighborhood there are THE RULES: No. 1: Crying. Don't. No matter what. No. 2: Snitching. Don't. No matter what. No. 3: Revenge. Do. No matter what. But bullets miss. You can get the wrong guy. And there's always someone else who knows to follow the rules . . .
I've heard that this was a fast read, and it was when I saw the verse on the first page that I realized why. The verse makes the story much more powerful than you'd think at first glance. While less words on a page makes for a quicker read, poetry is also much harder to skim. The verse forces you to slow down and interact with the words on the page. Verse forces you to think about the author's word choice, and Reynolds's word choice is brilliant within the verse. His lines become more powerful, the senses and feelings he evokes sharper than had they been diluted with more words. Some might say the story is harder to build with the verse, but I disagree. By the 70th page (which comes a lot quicker than you'd think), you already know why Will is walking to that elevator, what he's fighting against and for, even if you don't ever really have to know personally. You know all his motivations, pains, hopes, and everything in between with the verse storytelling.
A lot less people than I thought were confused or shook by the ending of the book. The ambiguous ending really got me at first, and I had to reread the last few pages twice to make sure I was understanding correctly. I saw a lot of wonderful things in the Goodreads reviews pondering what the ending meant. I agree with one reviewer that the ending is deliberately ambiguous. Had it not been, then this book wouldn't be a masterpiece. The words "you coming" could mean so many things. Would Will participate in the endless revenge-killing cycle? Would Will decide to end up dead, just like the other male members of his family? Or would he ride back up the elevator? By placing the choice squarely in Will's hands, without letting readers know what he chose, is where the brilliance lies in this ending. It is the not knowing that makes the ending what it is. We all know what we want Will to choose, and now it's up to us to create a better world so that he can make that choice. That is why the ending is so moving.
One of my favorite things to analyze in books is their use to time. Jason Reynolds has an expert handle over time within Long Way Down. The book takes place during the sixty seconds it takes for the elevator to go down to the lobby. This book is the perfect example of the study of a moment in time, as a lot can happen in a minute (Jason Reynolds himself proves that). In some ways, he completely defies the construct of time; and in other ways, he uses the construct to his advantage in telling Will's and Shawn's stories. Time simultaneously slows down and speeds up the action of the book, which is also helped along by the verse and the structure of stanzas. Even though this story takes place within just one minute, the stakes are high, because this is the one minute of Will's life that is going to define the rest of it. That knowledge is another reason why that ambiguous ending is powerful and heart-wrenching—it's not Shawn's death that changes Will's life, but Will's choice after the book. The timestamps on the tops of some of the pages hint at the idea of sixty seconds, and they also provide a certain pressure to the ending: when this minute is up, what will he choose? The pressures of time on the novel and on Will's ending cannot be underestimated.
This might be a small part of the book to enjoy, but I wanted to bring it up nonetheless. The texture of the pages is magnificent. It makes the story feel darker and more nuanced. It makes you feel like the story is grittier, bloodier, and sadder than you could ever know—than you would have imagined had it just been black text on a plain white page. There's also a quality of humanity that the texture lends to the story—it's as if the story was written on napkins or found paper, not printed prettily under a printing press for wide distribution. Instead, the story feels like it was an original, meant just for you. Some of the texture is also meant to look like an old sliding grate elevator door, as if the texture of the pages is meant to literally take us right inside the elevator. The parts of the book where the numbers appear on the side definitely are meant to transport us into the moment with Will, as if we're stepping past clouds of smoke to enter this hazy reality with him. The designers of this novel did a fantastic job supporting the novel's message and mission through their art, which does not go unappreciated!
Jason Reynolds is a fantastic author, and luckily for everyone, has plenty of books under his belt. One of my favorites of his is All American Boys, which is definitely worth an immediate read! Check it out, and let me know what you think!
*This review can also be found on my Goodreads page*
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