MIDDLE GRADE FICTION

Karen Harrington

Mayday

Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, 978-0-316-29801-8, hardcover (also available as an ebook), 352 pgs, $16.99

May 24, 2016

Twelve-year-old Wayne Kovok is an anxious seventh-grader who uses facts (Did you know that chickens can run up to nine miles an hour?) to protect himself from awkward silences and uncomfortable emotions. “A fact is like a shield,” Wayne says, “You can hide behind it. Then you can make a run for it if you need to. Or make someone laugh so that they aren’t laughing at you. Or distract your mom if she is sad.” Wayne’s life is pretty normal—Spanish homework and does Sandy Showalter really like me?—until his Uncle Reed is killed in action in Iraq.

As Wayne and his mother are flying home from Arlington National Cemetery with Uncle Reed’s burial flag (“There was a waiting list for the honored dead,” Wayne observes. “That might be one of the saddest facts I’d ever heard.”), an unseasonal storm forces their plane into an emergency landing. Author Karen Harrington’s imagery is vivid as the plane begins to fall. Wayne’s mother has been cradling Uncle Reed’s burial flag when a hole is ripped in the side of the plane and the flag “unfurled and sailed up into the fuselage like a patriotic kite.” Wayne and his mother survive but many passengers do not. Wayne leaves the hospital with one eyebrow, a large “L”-shaped (“the sign of a loser”) wound stitched together across his face, and a throat injury. The boy who uses his voice to protect, distract, and fill, now has none.

Harrington’s characters are diverse and genuine. There’s Grandpa, a retired army drill sergeant, who moves in with Wayne and his mom to help out during their recovery, quoting Napoleon and issuing commands. Wayne’s mother, who loves Jane Austen movie adaptations and has named their dog Mr. Darcy, shaves off an eyebrow “in solidarity.” Denny, Wayne’s new friend from voice therapy, is preparing for his bar mitzvah, which means he has to read a portion of the Torah aloud to the congregation at their synagogue, which is unfortunate because Denny stutters. But, boy, can he sing—think Mel Tillis.

Mayday is the story of how Wayne learns to deal with unavoidable silences and difficult emotions while his vocal cords heal, making decisions and realizing his own agency, and learning “the economy of the shrug.” Wayne’s first-person narrative is by turns funny and sweet, anguished and melancholy, but always smart and perceptive. The plot is simple, though it deals deftly and sensitively with some of the toughest issues a family can face and Wayne sometimes feels like “the rope in a tug of war. The rope never wins. It just gets pulled.” The pace moves along at a good clip, guaranteed to retain the attention of younger readers.

Mayday compares favorably with the classics from Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume. “I just needed the flag to be found,” Wayne reflects, “Grandpa to move back to his house, my face and neck to heal, my dad to stop messing with me, and Mom to keep smiling and make spaghetti every Tuesday.”

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