Not easy being a teen

Cover of “Eleanor and Park” (St. Martin’s Griffin), Rainbow Rowell

‘Eleanor and Park’ tackles domestic abuse, racial identity

Rainbow Rowell, author of “Eleanor and Park” / Courtesy of www.rainbowrowell.com

By Kim Young-jin

“Eleanor and Park” by American writer Rainbow Rowell has many of the elements that make a winning young adult novel. A love story involving two misfit teenagers in the 1980s, the characters are flawed and relatable; it crackles with hip cultural references, and suspense is created through believable situations.

Now available in Korea, what makes this New York Times bestseller noteworthy is the probing of two difficult subjects: domestic abuse and racial identity. While one of the main characters struggles with a chaotic home, the other grapples with a mixed, Korean-Irish background. It is the nuanced handling of the first topic ― more than the second ― that propels the book forward.

Set in Omaha, Nebraska the story follows Eleanor, a “big girl” with fiery red hair, and Park, a sensitive soul who loves comic books, as they fall in love to the soundtrack of 80s British bands, The Cure and Joy Division.

Park’s non-conformist attitude keeps him on the fringes. Eleanor, meanwhile, is new to school and becomes the target of intense bullying. Park is initially repulsed by her unkempt ways but eventually becomes enamored with her independent, offbeat spirit.

Park’s mother is Korean and his father is a Korean War veteran. He is portrayed as a physically attractive and charismatic character challenging perceptions of Asian men as socially inept and homogenous.

However, seen through the eyes of Eleanor and other characters, he tends to fall into other perceptions held about Asians as people who are stoic, meticulous and perpetually graceful. “Every time he moves,” Eleanor thinks, “he had a reason.” Other girls like him because he’s “mysterious and quiet." Though he wears eyeliner and punk rock shirts, he pains himself to keep his comic books and cassettes in immaculate order.

Park doesn’t know what to make of his Korean heritage and his identity issues are dichotomized according to his relationships with his parents. His father, a tough, statuesque man, is closer to Park’s younger brother, who has inherited his masculine traits. Park is closer to his mother, and suspects that his “Korean genes scrambled everything.”

Despite the distant relationship with his father, the household is stable and Park’s behavior throughout the book is noble, shielding Eleanor from bullies and helping her when life with her abusive, alcoholic stepfather reaches a critical point.

While this works in a modern-day Romeo and Juliet scenario, the portrayal of an Asian protagonist is still relatively conservative compared to, for instance, the edgy 2002 high school drama film “Better Luck Tomorrow.” In that film, overachieving Asian-Americans not only differ from, but upend “model minority” stereotypes by getting involved in a cheating scam.

Park’s family is explored to an extent, particularly his mother, who is portrayed as a plucky woman who weaves herself into the community despite being isolated from any elements of her home country.

But it is Rowell’s handling of the domestic abuse, and the constant terror it imparts on its victims that sets the book forward.

The author not only uses the situation to shed light on domestic, but also to drive the story forward and create a sense of empathy around all its characters.

Spliced with healthy doses of teenage angst and romance, the treatment of these topics makes the book a compelling read for both young adults and adults.