It isn't easy being a teen, especially if you're Karl Shoemaker, the expletive-spewing protagonist at the center of John Barnes' "Tales of the Madman Underground." By Page 5 of this darkly comic coming-of-age novel for young adults, Shoemaker has sworn as many times, disparaging the numerous cats that his hippie mom has let defile their house and his own frustrated attempts to deal with a living situation from which he desperately wants to escape.
Shoemaker has even more to swear about, which he does, of course, as he recounts the first five days of his senior year in high school. The boy whose hair clings "blandly to [his] skull like chocolate pudding running down a bowling ball" not only has to deal with the usual angst of body awkwardness, sexual awakening and social hierarchies, but also an alcoholic floozy of a mother (who steals her son's money to indulge in barfly pursuits) and his fellow members of the Madman Underground, a group of misfits corralled into a school therapy group to deal with the psychological fallout of their families' dysfunctions, which include physical abuse, molestation and neglect.
According to Shoemaker, an average Monday morning conversation goes something like this:
"So, how's the medication working out?"
"Too bad your mom got arrested again."
"Hey, aren't the new sheets on the Salvation Army bunks great?"
No wonder Shoemaker wants to flee.
Alcohol was Shoemaker's first choice for escapism -- as it is for his mom (and was for his deceased father) -- but he gave that up in favor of working. Delivering furniture and cleaning the fryers on the McDonald's graveyard shift are among the five jobs he juggles as he plots his ultimate escape -- joining the Army -- a plan his mother counters with the suggestion that he "smoke a little grass and get laid" while he's young.
Joining the Army isn't a decision that should ever be taken lightly, even more so in Vietnam-era 1973, when "Tales" takes place. It does, however, underscore the desperation of the book's main character, whose stuck-ness and resulting sarcasm are as troubled, relevant, relatable and hilarious as J.D. Salinger's Holden Caulfield.