Review by Martha Quillen
Education – June 2007 – Colorado Central Magazine
Ravenhill
by Timothy Hillmer
Published in 2007 by University of New Mexico Press
ISBN 0826339859
DESPITE A SLOW START and the author’s annoying approach for getting into his story, Ravenhill builds into a memorable and suspenseful book — for those who stick with it. Timothy Hillmer’s novel is all about loneliness, alienation, and school violence, which are pretty hot topics these days. And Ravenhill is moving, thought-provoking, and original — with some refreshing twists, turns and ideas.
But it’s also noticeably flawed. Timothy Hillmer isn’t a bad or clumsy writer, but he seems compelled to tell his tale by introducing the setting and all of his characters at length before he gets into the plot. And that seems like a curious choice for someone who is billed (as this author is on the cover) as a teacher, since two of the most often cited rules for story-telling are:
1) Show (with action and plot development); don’t tell.
2) And avoid using too many flashbacks, because they can slow and confuse the narrative.
But Hillmer introduces his novel by outlining the history of Ravenhill, a Boulder County school. Then he goes on to highlight the reactions of several police officers after one of them has shot someone at the school, presumably in the line of duty, but the author reveals no details about why. Instead Hillmer goes back in time to tell his readers all about the custodian at the school, who’s an alcoholic ex-priest; and about 15-year old Lara, a student, and Lara’s friends; and a strange new student; and a burned out teacher; and the widowed, single-mother who is the assistant principal; and the class bully; and many others.
Rather than immersing us in his story and setting, Hillmer keeps dragging us into the pasts of his characters in pages that read more like vignettes or short stories than like part of a cohesive narrative. And thus the story doesn’t seem to coalesce at all in the first sixty or seventy pages. But after Ravenhill’s characters finally come together, the book sails into fascinating territory.
This novel, however, also displays a few other foibles which I suspect most readers will notice. For instance, although the school violence takes place in 1997, references to rap, pop, Madonna, Puff Daddy, The Spice Girls, Gwen Stefani, Friends, Men in Black, popular video games, the Internet, and other contemporary icons are conspicuously missing. Instead the cultural references are to Shakespeare and James Bond, with occasional mentions of old stars who would be more familiar to prior generations than to ’90s teens. (It’s enough to make one wonder if this manuscript may have been written before 1997 and buried in a drawer in the interim.)
Such troubling yet minor matters could have been easily remedied before publication with a little editing. And it’s a shame they weren’t, because Hillmer’s glimpse into a modern American school that’s about to be wracked by violence is unique and provocative.
At Ravenhill, there’s a disturbing and yet terrifyingly believable degree of separation and distrust between the students and teachers, and between the students and their parents, and the students and other students, and students and administrators, and students and staff, and teachers and administrators, and teachers and other teachers, and teachers and their families. Or, in other words, there’s a yawning abyss of mistrust and fear isolating practically everybody in society. And half of the characters in Ravenhill are burdened by grievous personal problems that leave them feeling inadequate and overwhelmed. Thus, it’s not too surprising that nobody in this book sees what’s coming.
Ravenhill offers a perturbing and tragic tale about a seemingly ordinary school. Although Hillmer’s book is flawed, it is certainly not mediocre. Ravenhill combines convincing insights with flashes of inspiration. But it also mixes memorable, fully developed characters with others who seem unfinished, unbelievable or stereotypical. It’s a good book which verges on greatness in places, and parts of it are positively riveting — yet it’s first chapters merely plod along.
Ravenhill’s readers probably won’t regard this as one of the best books they’ve read in recent years. But it’s perceptive and readable and will give them a lot more to think about than most of the bestsellers on the top-ten lists.
