Paperback ©2007 | -- |
Coming of age. Fiction.
Authorship. Fiction.
High schools. Fiction.
Schools. Fiction.
Now in his final year at Hemingway High School, Shakespeare Shapiro decides to write his memoir, a project he hopes will justify his strange name and its obvious role in the more embarrassing aspects of his childhood and adolescence: "a series of catastrophes, one after another." Shakespeare sees the humor in any painful situation, from romantic rejection to embarrassing episodes with his parents. The chapters, which flip between Shakespeare's first-person account of his senior year and excerpts from his memoir, are written in language that's often irreverent and off-color as he wonders about sex, family, friends, pets, and even Internet porn. Despite their over-the-top portrayals, the characters, especially Shakespeare, ring true, and the mix of formats, including some yearbook messages, enhance the authentic voices and humor. This debut novel is a delightful, thought-provoking look at the lives of middle-class, adolescent males in America.
Kirkus ReviewsKing of comedy Shakespeare Shapiro spins essays, poetry, letters and yearbook entries to chronicle the ups, downs, crushes, mishaps, perversions and general sense of hilarious melee that comprise his senior year. Infamously named by his hippie, occasionally alcoholic parents—his brother's name is Gandhi—his adventures don't veer too far off the usual teenage-boy-coming-of-age track. However, Wizner infuses his voice with an over-the-top, biting wit that punches his seemingly sane life episodes into knee-slapping, lewd-icrous territory. His lusts become blunter with every horny thought he lays down on paper. His best friend becomes far more scatologically inclined than any other teenaged boy to hit the young-adult market, and his yearnings for another budding essayist named Charlotte cause him to spout forth some utterly cheesy rhymes in pursuit of her favor. Alternating between Shakespeare's reality and his writing, Wizner's first novel packs the stitches in tight. Readers wishing he could get on with the story will most likely begin rolling their eyes at the main character's expounding after the first 100 pages, but they'll still be laughing. (Fiction. YA)
School Library JournalGr 10 Up-After 17 years with an awful name, little luck, and a nonexistent love life, Shakespeare Shapiro hopes to win a coveted writing award and finally get laid. Wizner endows his narrator with a hilarious, self-deprecating comedic voice that makes readers forgive traces of self-pity. The teen's humor finds resonance in reality, as he airs dirty adolescent laundry for laughs. He offers an unshirking satire of tipsy parents, bowel-obsessed friends, erections, porn, bong hits, drunken mistakes, and unfortunate dates. Angst-riddled teens, particularly boys, will find mortifying situations to which they can intimately relate and a bit of absolution. Clever readers will see two tables of contents and realize that the book alternates between Shakespeare's contest submission and another novel covering his senior year. Other imaginative embellishments in format make Shakespeare, an already wonderfully developed character, feel all the more real. Gray smudges and the ghostly image of plastic spiral binding suggest that the teen slaved over a copy machine to create the book. It is easy to picture him obsessing over binding his publication, as he focuses on himself for the entire novel. When he falls for another finalist, however, a girl whose world poses very real, very tough challenges, his life suddenly doesn't seem so bad. Laughs alone make this effort successful, but Wizner allows Shakespeare to grow and learn just a little, too-an extraordinary feat for such a raucous read.-Shelley Huntington, New York Public Library Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information.
Voice of Youth AdvocatesIn his senior memoir for Hemingway High, Shakespeare Shapiro casts himself as the hapless victim of dysfunctional parents, humiliating school incidents, a virile libido frustrated by social inhibitions, and his socially savvy, popular younger brother, Gandhi. With spring's project deadline looming, Shakespeare drafts personal essays that appear interspersed with the academic year's narrative. Wizner's witty, poignant first novel recounts Shakespeare's angst-laden story of college applications (twenty-three, ranging from unrealistic to safety schools), potential love interests (including safeties), and friendships (two: Neil, a self-absorbed, scatological conversationalist, and Katie, cynical and verbally abusive). From the wry opening-"consider the implications of a name like Shakespeare"-through parental trials and finally graduation, where his memoir 17 Down receives a coveted honorable mention, it is a hilarious read. A high school freshman "test driving" the book for this reviewer observed, "This is an embarrassing book to read," and then resisted all attempts to pry him from its pages. Recommended for older teens and even adults, it is extremely well-suited to boys, although that same freshman reader thinks that girls would also appreciate it. Baby boomers on down will relish Shakespeare's one experience with marijuana, getting high for the first time and having forgotten the family gathering scheduled for that evening. When his bizarre behavior prompts his mother to ask if he is high and he answers truthfully, he suddenly gains prestige in Gandhi's eyes. Raw, sexual, cynical, and honest, this book belongs on library shelves and gift lists.-Cynthia L. Winfield.
ALA Booklist
ALA/YALSA Best Book For Young Adults
Kirkus Reviews
School Library Journal
Voice of Youth Advocates
Wilson's High School Catalog
My mom used to tell me that she and my father put the names of history’s greatest writers and artists and musicians into a bowl and decided I would be named for whoever they pulled out. “I was hoping for van Gogh,” she said.
“Didn’t he cut his ear off?” I asked.
“Yes,” my mother said dreamily, stroking the side of my face. “To give to the woman he loved.”
My dad remembers that he and my mom always talked about giving me an “S–H” name to match the “S–H” of our last name, Shapiro. “We thought about Sherlock, Shaquille, and Shaka Zulu before we settled on Shakespeare.”
“You really wanted to make my life miserable, didn’t you?” I asked.
My father licked the rim of his martini glass. “That was the plan.”
The worst was the time my mom came running into my room and told me she finally remembered how she and my dad had come up with my name.
“We did crazy things when we were younger,” she said.
“Is this going to traumatize me?” I asked.
“Sometimes we would dress up in costumes.”
“I don’t want to hear this. You’re an insane woman.”
“We were doing a scene from Shakespeare on the day you were conceived.”
“I’m calling Child Services!” I yelled, running from the room.
Her voice shrilled after me. “Your father was Othello!”
Take a moment to consider the implications of a name like Shakespeare Shapiro. It’s the first day of middle school. Everybody is trying hard not to look nervous and self-conscious and miserable. I have intense pains in my stomach and begin to wonder if it’s possible to get an ulcer in sixth grade.
“Good morning, everyone,” the teacher says. “Please say ‘here’ when I call your name.”
Michael and Jennifer and David and Stephanie and all the others hear their names and dutifully identify themselves.
“Shakespeare Shapiro,” the teacher calls out.
The class bursts into laughter.
“Here,” I squeak.
She looks up. “What a fabulous name. I’ve never had a student named Shakespeare before.”
Everybody is staring at me and whispering. If the teacher doesn’t call the next name soon, the situation will become critical. Already I can see some of the more ape-like boys sizing me up for an afternoon beating.
“I bet you’re a wonderful writer, Shakespeare,” she says kindly.
I begin to wish for a large brick to fall on her head.
She looks back down at her roster.
Come on, I think. You can do it.
Her head pops back up.
“Just read the next name!” I blurt out.
And so, less than ten minutes into my middle school career, I’m already in trouble, and all because of my ridiculous name.
This is the story of my life, which has been a series of catastrophes, one after another. I’d like to say there have been some happy times, too, but the reality is that with seventeen years down, nothing much has gone right so far. As I begin my senior year of high school, here are the facts I wake up to each morning and go to sleep with each night:
1. After six years of elementary school, three years of middle school, and three years of high school, I have only two close friends: Neil Wasserman, whose favorite thing to do is discuss his bowel movements; and Katie Marks, whose favorite thing to do is tell me how pathetic I am.
2.I have never had a girlfriend, never kissed a girl, and spend most Saturday nights watching TV with my parents before whacking off to Internet porn in my bedroom.
3.My younger brother—two years younger—has a girlfriend, is extremely popular, and will definitely lose his virginity before I do.
I should warn you. Some of the material you’re about to read is disturbing. Some of it will make you shake your head in disbelief. Some of it will make you cringe in disgust. Some of it might even make you rush out into the stormy night, rip your shirt from your body, and howl, “WHY, GOD, WHY?”
Then again, maybe you’ll just sit back and smile, secure in the knowledge that your name is not Shakespeare Shapiro, and this is not your life.
From the Hardcover edition.
Excerpted from Spanking Shakespeare by Jake Wizner
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
SHAKESPEARE SHAPIRO HAS ALWAYS hated his name. His parents bestowed it on him as some kind of sick joke when he was born, and his life has gone downhill from there, one embarrassing incident after another. Entering his senior year of high school, Shakespeare has never had a girlfriend, his younger brother is cooler than he is, and his best friend's favorite topic of conversation is his bowel movements.But Shakespeare will have the last laugh. He is chronicling every mortifying detail in his memoir, the writing project each senior at Shakespeare's high school must complete. And he is doing it brilliantly. And, just maybe, a prize-winning memoir will bring him respect, admiration, and a girlfriend . . . or at least a prom date.