Salzman (Lying Awake; Iron & Silk) volunteered to teach creative writing at Central Juvenile Hall, a Los Angeles County detention facility for "high-risk" juvenile offenders. Most of these under-18 youths had been charged with murder or other serious crimes, and after trial and sentencing many would end up in a penitentiary, some for life. Sister Janet Harris, of the Inside Out Writers program, convinced Salzman that in spite of his reservations—about teaching writing, about being a white liberal offering "art" to darker-skinned ghetto boys—these children needed to be encouraged to express themselves in writing instead of acting out, needed to feel they mattered to someone. So Salzman started coming twice a week to meet with three boys, although their number quickly grew. He tried to structure each session with a half hour for writing followed by each boy reading his work aloud, although after a lockdown or a class member's trial, he had to loosen the routine. While their writing themes are somewhat predictable—their anger and violent impulses, their relationships with parents and gangs, plus a tedious dose of "pussy, bullets, and beer"—the discussions these essays provoked were personal and often explosive. As productive as these classes were, everyone was always aware of the painful truth that students would soon be shipped out to more brutal facilities. Salzman doesn't dwell on that, concluding that "a little good has got to be better than no good at all." Indeed, his account's power comes from keeping its focus squarely on these boys, their writing and their coming-to-terms with the mess their lives had become. (Sept. 23)
Forecast:The success of Adrian Nicole LeBlanc's recent
Random Family: Love, Drugs, Trouble, and Coming of Age in the Bronx and, to a lesser extent, Wally Lamb's
Couldn't Keep It to Myself: Testimonies from Our Imprisoned Sisters, along with media publicity, could mean strong sales for Salzman. Knopf plans a 75,000 first printing.
