Chris Crutcher, acclaimed author of such books as Deadline, Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes, and Ironman,  is not only a writer who reaches kids where they are, but he is also a champion for First Amendment rights. Besides admiring him for the reasons just noted, I am such a fan of his that I asked him if I could use his novel, Ironman, as a thematic element in my debut novel, Courage in Patience, a story of hope for those who have endured abuse. Courage in Patience is the story of Ashley Nicole Asher, 15, who has been sexually abused by her stepfather for six years. She is removed from her mother's home and sent to live with her biological father, David, whom she has not seen since she was three months old. It is with David and his wife, Bev, an English teacher, that Ashley's life begins anew,  in the tiny East Texas town of Patience.

Chris Crutcher is used to his books being a lightning rod for controversy; after all, the stories he writes routinely address hard-hitting topics such as racism, incest, child abuse, and homophobia. This made Ironman the perfect choice for Bev to use in her summer school English classroom. I was thrilled when he graciously agreed to allow me to use Ironman as a launch pad for controversy.  

What follows is an excerpt from Courage in Patience. The parents of one of Bev's students are discussing Chris Crutcher's novel, Ironman: 

© Beth Fehlbaum, 2008

“We have a problem, dear,” Chloe said as she wiped the crumbs from the kitchen table and wrinkled her nose to hike up her glasses.

 "What’s that?”  Dayton said from the living room. T.W. had placated him somewhat by asking if he would throw the ball around with him before dinner, so the issue of his son being influenced by the Bo Brewster character had lessened in his mind. “This book, this Ironman. Is it on the list of approved novels for the district?”

 "I doubt it. Beverly Asher’s teaching the class. Have you ever seen her car, Chloe? She has this strange bumper sticker with a Star of David and a cross on it. Peace signs, other weirdo stuff. I think she was raised in a commune. I'll bet she doesn't even shave her legs. Or under her arms."

 "Well, be that as it may, dear, this book is not appropriate for the children of Patience to read.” She sat down heavily in the recliner next to her husband's matching chair and raised the footstool on it.

 “Yeah? Why not?”

“The language! Oh, my goodness, the language alone is shocking! And the things this writer, this Chris … Crutchfield? No, that’s not it." She reached over to the end table and picked up a copy of Ironman and a spiral with notes that she had made in preparation for this discussion with Dayton . "Crutcher. Chris Crutcher. He talks about sex, for one thing. There are teenagers talking about sex in this book, and our son read it! At his age.”

“What do you mean, sex?” Dayton asked, holding out his hand for the book. She handed it to him, and he asked, “Uh, what page is the sex on?”

 "Well, they don’t actually have sex, dear, they talk about it."

"Oh," Dayton said, handing the book back to Chloe and un-muting the TV just in time to see and hear multiple replays of Joe Theismann's leg snapping. "Damn! I'll never forget watching that. It was 1985, and I was in—"

 Chloe snatched up the remote and muted his show. "I don’t want T.W. thinking about sex or talking about sex. My goodness, he’s only fourteen, he’s too young!”

Dayton sighed and flopped back in his chair. Number one, as a male, he knew his wife was clueless about their teenage son's mind. Number two, as an educator who worked 200 days out of each year with adolescent males and had a keen understanding of how they, as a general population, thought, his wife was … clueless.

But rather than poison her mind with images of her baby boy whacking off nearly a thousand times before he lost his virginity, he remained silent. He knew that telling her about that would send her over the edge, possibly requiring heavy sedation, and definitely requiring the intervention of a prayer circle. He tried to imagine the prayer request in the church bulletin, and had to place his hand over his mouth to hide his smirk. He focused on tuning back in to Chloe's rambling.

 “… and that’s not even the worst part. There is a homosexual character in the book, a teacher. And he admits to his student, the Bo Brewster character, that he is a homosexual and that he has a partner. Well, he calls him a roommate, but you know what’s going on behind those closed doors.”

 At this, there was no need to hide a smile, because Dayton was horrified. “You're kidding me. The book has a faggot in it? Jesus Christ.” The thought flashed through his mind: had T.W. lost interest in The Dream because he had decided to be gay, too?

The sharp intake of his wife’s breath jolted him back to remembering that he wasn’t in the locker room. “Sorry, Chloe. I’m sorry, ” he called out as he looked at the ceiling.  “I’m sorry.”

 “Thank you. He,” she rolled her eyes heavenward, “thanks you, too, I’m sure." Everything square with God again, she continued. "

Dayton, our quiet little town has enough problems without bringing the homosexuals here. If they find out that they’re welcome in the books our kids read, they’ll think that they can just move in here and live among us, too. "This is bigger than you and me, Dayton.

"We need to get Pastor Langley involved. I think he would be interested to know that this filth is being taught in our schools." Chloe was on a roll. She lowered the footstool and leaned forward repeatedly until she gained enough momentum to stand, then planted herself between her husband and the television, her spiral notebook hugged against her breasts.

"We as Christians cannot possibly allow this to continue. What would Jesus think of us remaining silent, while our child is exposed to rebels and outcasts? What about the children, Dayton? What about those children whose parents don't go to First Church, and therefore don't know The Right Way?”

 Leaning forward in his chair and a little to the left, he tried to direct the remote around his wife to see if he could get it to un-mute. No luck. Glancing at her, Dayton said, “Chloe, I honestly don’t think it’s that widespread. I think it’s just an isolated thing." He tried leaning to the right instead of the left. "It’s one renegade teacher who slipped a bad book under the radar."

 Chloe stomped over to the TV and turned it off, then stood in front of the remote sensor so that Dayton had no choice but to listen to her, and see her, too.

 Her voice shaking, she said, “You asked me to read this book and let you know what I thought of it. You asked me for my opinion. Now, either you value my opinion, or you don’t. As head of the household, appointed by God to lead our family, you, Dayton , should appreciate that I did what you told me to do. I submitted unto your will. And this is the thanks I get?”

Her glasses teetered on the tip of her nose, threatening to fall off her face at any moment. She savagely shoved them back up, then stood before him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Dayton had heard it all before, usually when he didn't feel like dealing with something and delegated it to Chloe. Then when it came to the dirty work, she pulled out chapter and verse, telling him how it was his job to lead the family, yada yada yada. Now he’d done it. Given his wife a cause, and it was apparent that she was hell-bent on pursuing it in a big way.

 Oh, well, what harm could come of it? Maybe a little public pressure would rein in a certain rebellious teacher who thought that learning was more about application of knowledge than grades. He snorted aloud at the thought, then spent the next thirty minutes trying to convince Chloe that his snort was not directed at her. By the time T.W. returned from the movies, his father was just starting a long night of sleeping in his recliner.

© Beth Fehlbaum, 2008