Giver

When The Giver was first published in 1993, Lois Lowry was already a previous Newberry Medal winner (for her 1989 World War II novel, Number the Stars). She was also widely admired and greatly appreciated by an avid following of young readers for her comic series of Anastasia books. The Giver was immediately recognized as a very special novel. It too won the Newbury Medal. And a large number of commentators concluded that it was the best book Lowry had written.

Lowry's other work is mostly grounded in the cut and thrust of family life. The narrative of The Giver, because of the futuristic and allegorical themes in the novel, is a considerably more Spartan affair. Readers are made immediately aware that they are in the realm of fabulous rather than realistic fiction, and that Jonas is the principle player in a moral fable with political and social overtones.

Lowry spent a good part of her childhood living near the Amish people of Pennsylvania. Later she moved to Tokyo and lived in an American compound within the City. Both experiences seem to have made her suspicious of attempts by communities to protect a rigid self-identity. She is careful in The Giver to make the community she is describing extremely plausible. From many points of view, it represents a well-managed social order. But as the reader discovers, along with Jonas, more and more about the principles on which that social order is based-infanticide, enforced euthanasia-it becomes impossible to read the novel as anything other than a savage critique of such systems.

The Giver is about a boy named Jonas who lives in the future in an almost perfect community. Jonas is chosen to be the person who carries all the memories of the past, given to him by the giver. It is by Lois Lowry. There are many good and bad things in the Giver. Some good things are that hardly anyone gets hurt. When people do get hurt they take a pill and the pain goes right away. No one ever breaks bones or anything. There are no criminals, and there are no locks on any homes or buildings. Another good thing is that everyone knows who everyone else is and it's a very small community with only a few hundred people. There are hardly ever any visitors from outside the community. Sometimes kids from other communities go play with the kids in the book's community. All the people are provided with homes, jobs, and food. A bad thing about the giver's community is release. When a person breaks a major rule, is too old, or isn't right as a baby they get released. Release is killing. In the book there are twins and the smaller one has to be released. His father turned and opened the cupboard. He took out a syringe and a small bottle. Very carefully he inserted the needle into the bottle and began to fill the syringe with a clear liquid. Jonas winced sympathetically. He had forgotten that newchildren had to get shots. He hated shots himself, though he knew they were necessary. To his surprise, his father began very carefully to direct the needle into the top of the newchild's forehead, puncturing the place where the fragile skin pulsed. The newborn squirmed and wailed faintly "Why's he-" "Shhh," The giver said sharply. His father was talking, and Jonas realized that he was hearing the answer to the question he had started to ask. Still in the special voice, his father was saying, "I know, I know. It hurts, little guy. But I have to use a vein, and the veins in your arm are still too teeny-weeny." He pushed the plunger very slowly, injecting the liquid into the scalp vein until the syringe was empty. "All done. ! That wasn't so bad, was it?" Jonas heard his father say cheerfully. He turned aside and dropped the syringe into a waste receptacle. Now he cleans him up and makes him comfy, Jonas said to himself, aware that the giver didn't want to talk during the little ceremony. As he continued to watch, the newchild, no longer crying, moved his arms and legs in a jerking motion. Then he went limp. His head fell to the side, his eyes half open. Then he was still. With an odd, shocked feeling, Jonas recognized the gestures and posture and expression. They were familiar. He had seen them before. But he couldn't remember where. Jonas stared at the screen, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. The little twin lay motionless. His father was putting things away. Folding the blanket. Closing the cupboard. Once again, as he had on the playing field, he felt the choking sensation. Once again he saw the face of the light haired, bloodied soldier as life left his eyes.

The memory came back. He killed it! My father killed it! Jonas said to himself, stunned at what he was realizing. He continued to stare at the screen numbly.

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