I hadn’t planned to watch the Netflix version of Jay
Asher’s 13 Reasons Why.
First: I’d read the book ten years ago, and pretty much hold
to my novelist-bias that the book is always
better than the “film.” Second: 13 hours is a looong time, and when there’s over-the-top
excellence like This is Us to fill
one’s screen-time allotment, why waste precious moments over a re-baked story?
Third, I knew I’d feel compelled to read the book again, and frankly, there’s
too much incredible new YA fiction out there right now (think: The Hate U Give) to spend time revisiting
13 Reasons.
Then, The Daughter, a Millennial, called. She’d read the
book as a teen, started watching the Netflix series, and was hungry to discuss.
Miniseries are our thing, and we like nothing better than a mother-daughter
binge on some good but also some baaaaaaad television. Think: Friday Night Lights (good) North and South, Books 1 and 2 (bad) North and South, Book Three (beyond bad
please don’t judge me). She also lives/works in a city away from home, and I’m
a sucker for a connection like a common show to discuss. It’s one reason why I
became a Game of Thrones fan: my son,
who lives (far away) in Los Angeles, got me hooked. Monday Morning Thrones
Rehashing became our thing.
Anyway, despite my many reservations I took the 13 Reasons plunge and sometime around
1:00 a.m. this morning came up for air.
Here’s what I’d say:
This series is graphic, disturbing and depressing, but
appropriately so. It does not
glamorize suicide. In fact, Hannah’s suicide scene is so heart wrenchingly
lonely and awful, and her parents’ grief when they discover her so brutal, that
I’d argue it’s a suicide deterrent.
It deviates in significant ways from the novel, which I’m
guessing is partly to add content for thirteen episodes but also to add some
great plot twists. And while stretching the story to fill those 13 hours did
feel tedious at times (like Tony in the series, we want to shout at the
nervous, hesitant Clay, “Just listen to the damn tapes so we can advance the
plot!”) I liked the additions.
With the exception of Hannah’s parents, the adult characters
are monstrous. Kids are left with no mentors, no good examples, no place to
turn. I get that’s the way the teenage mind might process the world, but not
only is it an overused YA trope: it’s not realistic. Some parents don’t suck;
some adults listen and care. To create such unremittingly awful adults without
one brush stroke of complexity is an artistic failure.
In contrast: the teens in the series are also awful, but
complex. Even Justin, who is arguably the catalyst for everything that goes
wrong in Hannah’s life, is alternately charming/pathetic/cruel/adorable. Granted,
the ultimate teen monster in the series, Bryce, is a cardboard-cutout of an
entitled villain, but the rest of this hateful bunch is well-developed.
I think the most important achievement here is the realistic
depiction of Teen Mob Mentality and resultant cruelty. Certain kids are in
control in high school, and they generally are the ones leading the teams or
living in the houses where the fun parties are hosted or wearing the stylish
clothes or launching the first-strike barbed comments. You live in fear of
being their target or, conversely, being made invisible by these people. You’ll
abandon compassion and resort to cruelty yourself in order to find your place
in this world. And while most of
us survive this experience, albeit scarred, a few, like the very sensitive Hannah
Baker, don’t.
Which is ultimately why I think this is a good series for
teens and adults to watch and discuss together. Hannah Baker is not mentally
ill. There is nothing “organic” driving her despair and plunge into darkness.
Her classmates (with the exception maybe of Bryce) are not sociopaths.
Everything that leads this character to suicide is circumstantial and
preventable. At any turn, a little kindness could have made a difference.
That’s worth talking about. And well worth the 13 hours.
