It is so hard to describe this book. The back cover sounds so dreadfully ordinary and dull, and I don't blame whoever wrote it. It's nearly impossible to do it justice without just going into detail about everything in the book. It cannot be summarized, let alone in the way that back covers do it--designed to entice, not describe. AaDDtSotU is made up of all its parts, which is what makes it so wonderful and unique.
Summer of 1987 and Ari Mendoza is fifteen and miserable. For the past eleven years, his brother has been in prison and no one will talk about him, especially not his parents. Ari doesn't even know what Bernardo did. Ari's father fought in the Vietnam war before Ari was born, and he barely knows him, silent and inexpressive as he is.
But when Ari, who can't swim, goes to the pool one day to float and listen to the older lifeguards say stupid and creepy things about girls, he meets Dante, whose voice is squeaky with allergies. Dante offers to teach him to swim, and Ari accepts.
Dante seems so perfect and happy. He laughs all the time. He loves art and poetry and reading. He has a wonderful relationship with his parents. He gets along with everyone. He is almost the exact opposite of Ari, and yet they become friends. Neither one of them has ever really had a friend.
As the summer goes by, Dante and Ari spend time together and get to know each other better each day. But one rainy evening, a terrible accident results in a hospital visit and a lot of confused feelings on all sides, changing Ari and Dante's relationship.
In the course of a year, Ari and Dante learn much about each other, their families, and living.
You see, there's something about this book that seems important. I found it on the LGBT literature shelf at the bookstore; I knew that it would ultimately be a story about Ari and Dante's romantic relationship. It seems important. But it's actually not. AaDDtSotU is not a story about overcoming homophobia and such. That's such a tiny part of the story that it's hardly worth mentioning. But at the same time, it's completely central to the story. It's weird. It's like its not really mentioned much, but it's the silent undercurrent of the whole book. Again, it's weird. It's just weird. Hard to talk about without running out of words to describe it.
AaDDtSotU is so wonderfully put together. As I have already said, it is made up of all its parts. There are so, so many subplots in this book; it's amazing. And what's even more amazing is that, in the end, they all tie together. It's Ari and Dante learning things that they need to know to be happier. Ari needs to know what happened to his brother. He needs to understand his dad. (If this book had key words and phrases, "understand" would be a big one. It's all about understanding, really.) Ari doesn't even get himself. Dante, though seemingly happy and perfect, is not always so--people like him seldom are. He can be lost and confused, too. He doesn't always know who he is, either. I think that being a teenager is about realization. Everything that you figure out may seem astonishing at first, but it wouldn't be a realization if it didn't. Ari and Dante are doing what everyone does--discovering life (or the secrets of the universe, if you want). It's just that they have a different, more difficult series of discoveries, which makes their story interesting. Or maybe everyone's story is like that, and it's just Saenz who has put together an ordinary story into one of the best books I have ever read. Yes. That sounds right. It would explain why it's so hard to describe this book, anyway.
One part of the book that I thought was particularly interesting was a sort of a strange self-unrecognized study. Near the beginning of the book, Ari watches Dante cry over a sparrow that was shot with a BB gun, and he thinks that's slightly weird. But then he also wonders "...what it was like, to be the kind of guy that cried over the death of a bird. ...why was it that some guys had tears in them and some had no tears at all? Different boys lived by different rules." (p. 55). From then on, Dante does cry about a lot of things, and Ari finds it a little odd at first. But then there's a slow transition. Ari has always thought of himself as someone who never cries. But as the book progresses, that changes. And it's definitely a change for the better. Ari, always ignoring and hiding his feelings, like his father, discovers--if unconsciously--that that's problematic. But even with this change, Ari always seems somewhat fascinated with Dante's crying. It defines Dante for him. After the accident: "He started crying. Dante and his tears. Dante and his tears." (p. 116). Ari promptly makes a no-crying rule. I thought that this theme was quite interesting, if a little odd. There didn't seem to be any particular reason for its inclusion, other that the character of Ari. I think that that's a very good reason.
The characters in this book are absolutely wonderful, as well. Both Ari and Dante have the greatest parents, which always makes for a nice change from the usual. Parents in real life are always much nicer and better than parents in books. I also loved reading Ari's voice; he's a wonderful character--a philosopher who doesn't know or even think he is. There's very little physical character description, but it's not at all necessary. Not just because it would be a little strange with the book's tone, but also I could very clearly see every one of the characters without knowing much at all about what they looked like. Especially Dante's smile. I could imagine it very well, for some reason.
The one time that this book ever had a suggestion of being an overcoming-discrimination story (at least to me; all of the other parts just felt like bits of a regular story) was this one thing that Dante says to Ari: "'Someday, someone will walk up to you and say: "Why are you hanging out with that queer?" If you can't stick by me as a friend, Ari, if you can't do that, then maybe it's better that you just, you know--it would kill me.'" (p. 248). I hope that everyone with a gay friend or a friend of any minority or discriminated-against group knows this. It's so important. So very, very important. (I also got to use quotation marks inside quotation marks inside quotation marks just there, which is very exciting for me. Sorry to disrupt the mood. You didn't really have to read this distracting parentheses, you know. Please, read on.)
No complaints. Nothing. THIS BOOK IS SO GOOD. There are a few typos (not mistakes, which are worse than typos because they come from ignorance instead of a slip of the fingers), but it seems almost horrible to mention them, because for once, I barely care.
In short, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe is an amazing book by an author who is clearly also amazing, and I would recommend it to anyone. Just absolutely anyone. It's--no. Just read it. Just go read it.