Robert Cormier Deanna Zitterkopf Like Jerry Renault, a character in one of his stories, Robert Cormier has dared to disturb the universe—not, of course, by refusing to sell chocolate, but by writing novels which do not conform to the conventional standards of juvenile fiction. Cormier's literary products, which routinely have been honored as best books by the American Library Association and The New York Times, do not evoke a cheery, secure world where good triumphs over evil and adolescents' main problems are acne, sibling rivalry and Saturday night dates. In stark, economical prose, he has instead created shockingly realistic narratives of contemporary life which typically climax in murder, suicide or insanity. Of course, Cormier's works do share some traditional elements of young adult fiction. His main characters are adolescents, and all of them are embarked, either literally or metaphorically, on the familiar quest for identity. But as Cormier presents it, the journey to selfhood is not of the common garden variety so often encountered in juvenile novels. His young people are alone, physically and emotionally. Many are orphans whose identities and origins are blurred by past tragedies. And all find that their seemingly benign middle-class environments are in reality Orwellian landscapes where life is illogical, betrayal is commonplace and decent people, including children, are victims. By placing his young heroes and heroines in such grim circumstances, Cormier not only creates powerful, suspense-filled narratives which unfold like detective novels—he also encourages his youthful readers to confront some of the major moral and ethical issues of our age. All of Cormier's novels deal in some fashion with the source and abuse of power, but this theme is most pronounced in The Chocohte War (1970), in which fourteen year old Jerry Renault refuses to participate in the school's fundraising chocolate sale. His refusal to conform places him on a collision course with a sadistic headmaster and the Vigils, a secret society which controls the school via psychological terrorism. The book ends with Jerry's being brutally beaten before an approving mob of Trinity students. Cormier's exploration of institutional corruption, the consequences of passivity, and the dangers of being different are continued in his most recent novel, Beyond the Chocohte War (1985). In this sequel (which includes a suicide, a bungled rape, and a near-guillotining) Jerry Renault makes a comeback of sorts. But the story's main interest lies in the cat-and-mouse conflict which develops between Archie and Obie, two Vigil members. Obie's coming to understand himself and the nature of his free will clearly suggests that man is in a fallen state and that evil still walks upon the earth. Elsewhere in his fiction, Cormier indicts political fanaticism, the numbing, depersonalization of government intitutions and the insidious dangers of mind-control techniques. Adam Farmer, the youthful protagonist of I Am the Cheese, (1977) is the victim of a secret government agency designed to fight organized crime. Unfortunately, the agency's values and methods are as inhumane as those of the adversary; by the end of the novel, which is stylistically Cormier's most innovative, Adam's mind is destroyed and his death is highly probable. In After the First Death (1979) a schoolbus full of children are the innocent pawns in a confrontation between a political terrorist group and a secret military research center. Because of misplaced loyalties, a sixteen-year-old bus driver is killed, a general's son commits suicide, and a young terrorist is driven to murder. Finally, in The Bumblebee Flies Anyway, (1983) Cormier explores the ethics of medical research on terminally-ill children. Once again, the narrative is littered with the bodies of youthful victims, and on the last page, Barney Snow, the subject of a mind-manipulation experiment, is dying a hideously-painful death. Such are the events and themes of Cormier's work. Cormier's biography doesn't suggest a scenario for violence, terrorism and death. By his own admission, he is a gentle, sentimental man who is kind to animals, loves young people, enjoys sunsets and old Beatles songs, and is deeply attached to his wife and four children. (This side of...