A Mock Review of Christian Purity Novel, Anything But Normal
Anything But Normal by Melody Carlson
Publisher: Revell, 2010
ACFW Carol Award for Young Adult (2011)
Anything But Normal by Melody Carlson is a purity-themed teenage Christian fiction novel that follows 17-year-old Sophie Ramsay, one of four Christian friends who make purity pledges to remain abstinent until marriage.
Curious about the author’s formulaic style of writing, I looked her up and found that she’s written around 200 books, which explains why her narrative pacing is so on-point—or, as she explains on her website, her writing ability is a natural gift from God that she doesn’t have to work that hard at.
Though I didn’t exactly enjoy this book, I couldn’t put it down. I was too curious to find out whether any of the four friends would exhibit kindness instead of shitting on each other every chance they got. I’ve never read such a cruel and inconsiderate best friend character as Sophie’s best friend, Carrie Anne. On multiple occasions Carrie Anne, Sophie’s dad, and Sophie herself make jabs at Sophie’s weight—a shaming tactic that the author normalizes by never having anyone counter it with body-positive affirmations.
Shame is the most recurring theme throughout the book, most notably after Sophie discovers she’s pregnant by a pastor’s son (and Carrie Anne’s crush), when he forces himself on her at church camp. The boy, Dylan, tells Sophie she can’t get pregnant her first time having sex. And despite that she tells him to stop, and he “seemed to not have heard her,” Sophie thinks it was her fault—that she’d given Dylan the impression that she was “that kind of a girl.” She blames herself for being stupid and for ruining everything, including her parents’ fitful marriage. “Why shouldn’t everyone be ashamed of her?” she wonders.
The author sets the shame on the table and leaves it there, as though to say Shame is normal, Honey. Take, eat, and nourish yourself with it. As the narrative outlines, Sophie is a smart girl. An honor student. The first female chief editor of the school newspaper. The author portrays her as not being like the other pregnant girls in the school who walk around like they’re proud of what they did, so how could she let something like this happen?
Sophie’s friends repeatedly boast about their purity pledges, yet they never discuss their struggles with purity, or show much interest in dating. (God just makes things so easy for them!) Every character in this book is as flat as a penny on train tracks—even Jenny, the group’s one friend who refused to take the purity pledge. Jenny was born to a teen mom, but she doesn’t use her empathy to counter the other girls’ claims that the high school pregnancy center is a reward for teens who have sex, giving them permission to get pregnant.
Sophie is so sure she’ll be rejected by her friends and family if she tells them she’s pregnant, that she visits the local abortion clinic out of desperation. But after being glowered at by the dead-eyed staff, she runs out with “the certainty that abortion had always been—and still was—wrong, wrong, wrong. Taking a human life to cover up your own stupid mistake was wrong, wrong, wrong. She was able to convince herself—during the daylight hours—that she would never, never kill an unborn child.”
This perspective perpetuates several harmful and triggering beliefs: One, that abortion is murder; Two, that being raped is the victim’s fault; Three, that the victim of rape is responsible for carrying an unwanted child to term; and Four, that those in positions to help women with unwanted pregnancies are silently judging them for their choice to not bring a child into a world that they’re not equipped to raise.
Some other (but not all) thoughts on abortion from Sophie/the author:
“[It] just didn’t make sense that an abortion was perfectly permissible without parental consent when a simple over-the-counter pain reliever was not. It was actually kind of creepy when she thought about it.” ...“God probably wasn’t inclined to listen to prayers from pregnant teenage girls who had broken their vows…Or worse yet, who were hoping that a human life might end simply for convenience’s sake.”
Convenience? So, Ms. Carlson, you think it’s merely an act of convenience to make an informed choice about your own body and your future and to prevent the life of a child who would live with the knowledge that they weren’t planned or wanted and were in fact a product of rape? You think it’s instead admirable to bring a life into the world that can’t be properly cared for? Or is it that you think victims of rape deserve to be blamed and punished for someone else’s cruel decision? ‘Adoption is an option,’ you say? Let the girl suffer her alleged sin through pregnancy and the pain of childbirth, then give up the human she formed inside her and go on to spend the rest of her life haunted by the belief that she’s bad and wrong and that no one will want her because of what she “did” and she doesn’t deserve to mother her own child. My heart aches for all the young people who’ve read this book and believe in its harmful messages.
The poor protagonist can’t even hope for a miscarriage without feeling like a piece of shit. Sophie thinks, “On one hand, it would be such a relief. On the other hand, she knew it was wrong to wish for an innocent baby’s death simply to escape her own mistake.”
If these consequences (and the mistaken belief that an early pregnancy is a baby) aren’t enough to turn off female-bodied teen readers to sex, then count on the multiple mentions of failed birth control, sex being painful, sex not being fun, and the emotional risks that come from making a personal decision about your own body.
Surprisingly, however (and encouragingly), the book is not entirely forgiving of the boy’s role in the pregnancy. Sophie’s pastor — Pastor Vincent — is appalled and apologetic when he learns who the father is. He says, “It’s actually making me quite angry … I expected more from him. And I suspect that you never would’ve broken your purity pledge if he hadn’t pressured you…It’s an old story, Sophie—selfish young men taking advantage of innocent young girls, making promises just to get what they want.” He forgives her and tells her to forgive herself, then he schedules a meeting for both Sophie’s family and Dylan’s family to meet and discuss the situation. At the meeting, Dylan’s mom says that Dylan “made a purity pledge too. But it’s harder for a young man,” to which both Dylan’s dad and Pastor Vincent tell her it’s not helpful to defend Dylan. (Is this a positive thing, or is it just a twisted way for the author to demonstrate that only men can be the voices of reason when speaking up for women’s bodies and decisions? Not to mention that no one considers how triggering it might be for Sophie to be in a room with her rapist.)
If readers don’t pick up on the first four times Sophie says she told Dylan to get off of her on that fated summer day, she emphasizes it again to the families, but with the caveat that Dylan didn’t rape her. She looks at Dylan and tells him she’s sorry…sorry she ever met him, but mostly sorry that she broke her promise to God. We get mixed messages here from the author. Despite that Dylan forced himself on Sophie, there seems to be a clear takeaway that Sophie should still feel guilty. But she absolutely shouldn’t. When I read this scene I wanted to enter the pages, look Sophie in the eyes and tell her that it’s not her fault, she didn’t break any promise, and that she was in fact assaulted and doesn’t owe anyone an apology.
Another mixed message comes from Sophie’s non-religious parents. Sophie’s dad is repeatedly shown as a quasi-deadbeat who does nothing except drink beer, watch ESPN and avoid women’s emotions, while favoring his athletically successful son. Is the author saying that this is the type of dad you get when he’s not a Christian? And then there’s Sophie’s mom, who acts as though she wished Sophie had gotten an abortion when Sophie finally confides in her parents (at five months along). Both parents are livid and shocked at the confession because she made “that whole abstinence pledge.” Her dad blames the Church, saying, “They set girls up to think they’re better than everyone else, and then they fall down just the same.” This is the smartest thing her dad says the whole book. Yet I’m left wondering—Is the author promoting purity pledges or isn’t she?
Some positives: Mrs. Manchester, the high school pregnancy center director, encourages Sophie to think for herself and tells her she’s strong, and that sometimes our mistakes make us bigger people. Sophie’s journalism teacher encourages her to stay on as chief editor when she thinks she should quit, pointing out that Sophie’s pregnancy allowed her to see more sides of a story. And then there’s Sophie’s journalism buddy, Wes, an Episcopalian who has a crush on Sophie, and who remains her friend throughout her pregnancy, despite the rumors that he’s the father.
When Sophie visits the pregnant girls at the center (before she’s outed herself as one of them), readers are exposed to the realities of date rape, and the option of the Plan B pill (which is considered murder by many Christian faith denominations). Sophie’s judgements of these pregnant girls are softened by the diverse and unique experience of each of them, and by the end of the book she befriends a few of the girls and starts attending the center’s classes on child development. (Kudos to the author here for showing all sides of a story, as well as showing (even if it’s with an air of judgement) the available options for girls who find themselves in what she refers to as a “pickle.” I myself never heard of Plan B until my 20s, and only then as a murderous option.)
The narrative gets decidedly more Christian at the end, even if it’s contrived Christianity. Sophie acknowledges that “she needed to do a better job of playing that part—the role of the good Christian girl.” She prays and asks God to tell her what to do, and “a calm, quiet voice [whispered] inside of her. A voice she knew belonged to God.” She confesses to God again and asks his forgiveness, believing that he does indeed give do-overs and can show her how to untangle the web of deceit she’s woven.
In the delivery room, right after Sophie passes her newborn daughter off to her adoptive family, she says to her adoption attorney, “I know it’s the right thing to do. I just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.” Her attorney offers a sad smile and says, “Maybe that’s how God felt…when he gave up his Son.” (Wow, Ms. Carlson—are you implying that God is Mother as well as Father? How progressive!)
So Sophie compares herself to God, and in the throes of that high she recommits herself to her purity pledge, reassured that God is restoring her purity in his own way. “This time she knew she would keep that vow. With God’s help, she would keep it.”
I’ve never been more certain of a teenager’s recommitment! Especially since I made that recommitment myself at least 50 times in my teen years, and every time felt totally legit. But the truth is that commitments made for the sake of someone else bear no true conviction unless they’re first and foremost for yourself.
The book wraps up all the character narratives in a neat little package. Carrie Anne remains a stand-up friend who tells Sophie she’s lying about being pregnant by Dylan, Dylan gets another girl pregnant, Carrie Anne’s judgy mom starts volunteering at the pregnancy center, and Sophie’s parents are revealed to be good people after all for sticking by their daughter. Heartwarming.
But not once is the concept of a “future husband” mentioned in Anything But Normal, and for this I say, Bravo, Ms. Carlson! You managed to write an entire book on purity culture without ever discussing its end goal: marriage. I look forward to not reading your next 200 books.
