Vintage: A Ghost Story

Vintage: A Ghost Story
Steve Berman
The Haworth Press
ISBN: 1560236310
Fiction, YA, Romance
Reviewed by Jean Roberta

A good novel about teenagers is hard to find. The ones written by precocious teenage authors are likely to seem raw around the edges, and the ones written by adults are likely to sound patronizing or formula-driven. Vintage is that rare thing, an interesting novel about teenagers as complex human beings with emotional depth and an awareness of their place in history. These kids are all right, Goth style and all.
The seventeen-year-old male narrator knows that his parents would never accept his sexual orientation (gay), which is why he lives with his Aunt Jan, who is generous and accepting but a terrible cook. His best friend, a girl named Trace, lives with her distracted father and younger brother, Second Mike, in a house that seems to be haunted by an older son, the first Mike, who disappeared years before, sending the mother of the family into a downward spiral that led her to the mental hospital where she has lived for years. Liz, a lesbian friend, has rich parents who are rarely home; they work long hours and travel without their daughter. These kids are virtual orphans, but they are refreshingly free of self-pity. The understated narrative style brings the reader into their lives without drama.
The novel is organized like a diary, in which each chapter is named for a day of the week. The reader follows the narrator, learning that his time with friends (especially with Trace, whom he admires for her grace and style) is the high point of an average day.
The narrator has temporarily dropped out of high school and found an undemanding job as assistant to an eccentric man who runs a vintage clothing store. In some sense, the narrator has dropped out of time after a failed suicide attempt. He agrees with Aunt Jan's opinion that he needs a GED, but he has no desire to return to the conformist torture of high school. For the meanwhile, he is drawn to the funerals of people he never knew and to the clothing styles of forty years before (the late 1950s), which he can always borrow from the shop where he works.

The narrator's personal brush with death, his attraction to other boys and his interest in the past seem to open the veil between the worlds which normally seems to prevent contact between the dead and the living. A high school athlete in vintage clothes, with poster-quality good looks, appears on a lonely stretch of highway and speaks to the narrator. Will this brief meeting lead to a too-good-to-be-true relationship between a popular guy and a geek?
The narrator asks Trace what she knows, and he learns the history of the handsome boy, Josh, who seems to be stuck in an eternal purgatory of walking home, night after night, without ever reaching his destination. With appealing modesty, the narrator wonders why Josh would be attracted to him. He only asks later whether it is fatal for a live mortal to be sexually attracted to a ghost.
For better and worse, other people and events demand the narrator's attention. His increasing knowledge of the circumstances that led Josh to walk down the highway night after night makes him aware of how the past has influenced the present. His ability to communicate with the dead leads to a terrifying but enlightening evening in the local cemetery, and to a determination to help First Mike and the rest of his family learn what happened to him and come to terms with it.
The narrator is amazed to realize that he is not only wanted by a ghost but by a live boy as well. After a cuddly but chaste night with a guest in his bed, the narrator creeps down the hall to find out if his aunt is home. He returns to a surprise:
I found him already dressed and smoothing the folded covers. I stood in the doorway, blinking at the sight. He had made my bed. He had made my bed! I think that was the first time that had ever been done--I mean, no matter where I lived, the bed simply stayed perpetually slept in.
The narrator is becoming aware of what it would be like to live--in every sense of the word--with someone who cares for him. This awareness helps him decide what to do. By the time the conflict between life (change) and death (stagnation) reaches its highest point, the reader is cheering for the narrator and his developing relationships with other live people.
By the conclusion, the narrator seems to be headed toward a relatively happy future, but he can never forget the presence of something beyond the visible present. His boyfriend tells him:
“I love your costume.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.
I looked down at myself. I wore my normal basic black. I gave him a quizzical look.
“Just you, silly.”
I smiled and leaned in real close, so close that my lips brushed against his ear. “I love you back,” I said softly. I hoped he was the only one who heard me.
The world of this novel has the charm and unpredictability of real life. Be warned: this story will haunt you for much longer than it takes to read.