"That was the secret of the world's agony, and the reason crime—and, yes, sin—would always prevail. Because the criminal, whether a rapist or a burglar, loves his crime. That's why rehabilitation was impossible. You had to get rid of the love, the passion, first. And that would never happen." —Beyond the Chocolate War, P. 45 "Find out a person's passion and you have him in the palm of your hand. Find out what a person loves or hates or fears, and you can play that person like a violin. Find someone who cares and what he cares about, and he is yours on a silver platter. So simple, so obvious." —Beyond the Chocolate War, P. 67 Having read thousands of books by almost as many different authors in my life, I've come to the conclusion that Robert Cormier may be unique among all storytellers. In my experience, at least, there isn't another writer like him on the planet, and there very well may never have been one; I have my doubts, also, that another one is on his or her way anytime soon. Cormier, the Master, has a way of delivering his stories of psychological horror from the inside out, making it feel as if they are growing out of our own minds, out of our darkest thoughts and fears, rather than being passed along to us by the voice of an external narrator. If the anxious mind is fear's primary breeding ground, then that is where Robert Cormier sets up shop, never straying from those fertile grounds in rooting his stories where they can grow and thrive in the shadowy corners of our subconscious. Each time we think we know what Robert Cormier is about and what form his mind-blowing fiction is going to take, he steps out past the perimeters and goes in a new direction, just as adeptly as all the other unexpected steps he had taken before. There was Frenchtown Summer, for example, in which Cormier demonstrated his masterful knowledge of writing on the high wire that is free verse, and proved to be as mesmerizing and unforgettable as in his bone-chilling prose. In Beyond the Chocolate War, Robert Cormier writes his first sequel, the followup to a novel as tormentious in the slow but steady revelation of its plot as any other I've ever read. Who could possibly live up to such a predecessor of a book, an instant classic that is feared and avoided as much as it is acclaimed because reading it us such an uncomfortable experience? Yet Robert Cormier still decided to pen a followup to The Chocolate War, coming eleven years after the original, and it is clear by the final turn of the page that he hasn't lost anything from his eerily powerful delivery during the decade-long intermission between the two books. Beyond the Chocolate War is possessed of the same raw, torturous potency as the novel that preceded it, and leaves just as resounding of an echo at the end as rang in our heads for years upon finishing The Chocolate War. I don't know how anyone could read either book and view the world afterward in quite the same way as they did before. When Jerry Renault finally returns to Trinity High School, after months of recuperation of his body and mind following the savage beating he endured at the hands of the vile Emile Janza near the end of The Chocolate War, the world hasn't become any more peaceful of a place. The Vigils, still led by the unflappable, emotionless, conscious-less Archie Costello, continue to make life challenging for students and faculty alike at the school. Archie reels off his "assignments" whenever he finds they suit his purposes, ingeniously crafted exercises of subtle and overt psychological battery that probe for weakness and mark the spot for a later kill, or keep whoever is on the wrong end of the assignment strung up to where he can no longer make a move without fearing the roof caving in on his life. When Jerry Renault returns, he isn't the person he once was; no, Archie's nearly deadly games did their job of beating all Jerry's confidence, happiness and trust out of him, leaving him a shell of the freshman he had been at the beginning of the school year. Now, though, it's Ray Bannister's turn to play a pivotal role in the Vigils' newest power play. Ray, whose casual interest in performing magic makes him the perfect candidate to use in a revenge plot as primal in its thrust as it is dangerous, as disconcerting as it is potentially lethal. With new levels of unsettling mystery and behind-the-scenes swaps of allegiance and friendship being introduced almost constantly, shuffling in and out and around each other like a deck of cards manipulated in the experienced hands of a master magician, it's no wonder the suspense begins to build at an early stage in the story. After the events of the previous fall, Archie doesn't have the full support of everybody in the Vigils. There are those desperate to see him draw the literal and figurative black stone, wanting it to happen as intensely as if their own redemption depended on it. If all the damage wrought by the Vigils can be put upon Archie, the ultimate scapegoat, then maybe the other Vigils can wash their hands of the terrible acts they've committed in the name of the group, can wipe the slate clean and restart their lives as if they've never heard of Archie Costello or his assignments. And some might be willing to go much further than a simple bait and switch to see Archie take the fall as architect of so much destruction and personal hurt. Some might be willing to take their own lives in their hands, as well as Archie's life, and walk to the edge of the abyss and look over, contemplating that one last leap that could render everything coming before it null. But is there truly absolution to be found in the slaying of a monster, or is there no satisfactory way out to be found once one has crossed the line and pressed the self-destruct button on one's life, detonating the last dregs of humanity that remain? "A thought crept into his mind. It would be nice to avoid the world, to leave it and all its threats and unhappiness. Not to die or anything like that, but to find a place of solitude and solace. —Beyond the Chocolate War, P. 160 The richness of this story goes so deep that it's difficult to imagine being able to delve down far enough into its themes to do the book justice in a review like this. As in The Chocolate War, the major overarching question—more of a forceful jab to the solar plexus, really, but with the lighter hues of honest query hovering at the edges—is, "Do I dare disturb the universe?" Jerry Renault learned to ask that question from a poster in the back of his locker at Trinity High, a philosophical self-inquiry that comes from T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. This short, simple question was the basis of all that happened between Jerry Renault, Archie Costello, Brother Leon and the other students at Trinity in The Chocolate War. As Jerry observed the mass of humanity heading in one essentially similar direction, all of them chasing after their goals and desires and the idealized American life that people are trained to want from the earliest days of childhood, Jerry came to want something more than to follow the crowd and not make waves. Jerry wanted to "disturb the universe", wanted to stir the hornets' nests and find out what would happen if he did, find out whether or not there really was anything to fear as the majority of people quietly seemed to think. Jerry's cautious first attempts at disturbing the universe were met with devastating heavy-handedness in The Chocolate War, and he isn't soon going to make those same decisions again. Therefore, so much of Beyond the Chocolate War is a revisitation of that same question as in the first book, "Do I dare disturb the universe?" Yet now, Jerry's perspective is vastly different. We may not always recognize the colossal separation in mixed signals we receive while growing up, but at the same time as we're hearing that we can do anything, that anything we might want to achieve is within our power and we can earn all of it and more if we're willing to work hard, that love and happiness is within our grasp and we can have that, too, if we just believe it's possible and have patience searching until we find the love that's out there for us, there are those areas in which a tendency to reach out and disturb the universe are met with swift opposition and retribution as merciless as anything encountered by Jerry Renault. And who can maintain the bravery to continue sending ripples out into the universe when such resentment and fiery rancor are sent in response, like an angry meteor shower warning us not to disturb the universe in such a way, that there are acceptable disruptions to the natural continuum and then there are those that should never be attempted, and woe to he who crosses up the two and invites a burning hailstorm on his own head? Jerry's soberingly timid attitude about this in light of the brutal beating he suffered at Trinity months ago is easy to see on page one hundred nine of Beyond the Chocolate War: "He had to resume his life here in Monument... Live according to the rules he had established for himself after the chocolate sale. Don't make waves, go with the flow. Pretend the world wore a sign like the kind hanging on doorknobs in motels: DO NOT DISTURB." And who could blame Jerry Renault for his change in belief after the trauma of the war with Brother Leon and the Vigils? How do we respond when we know our search for individuality and personal satisfaction will be met by nothing but the most acidic forms of recrimination and opposition? Who would be able to make the choice to carry on disturbing the universe in the face of such risk? This theme is wrestled with in depth throughout Beyond the Chocolate War, but one doesn't get a totally clear vision of Jerry's "solution" to the problem until page two hundred twenty-four, when it becomes obvious how permanently beaten down he is by his multiple traumatic ordeals. "They want you to fight... And you can really lose only if you fight them. That's what the goons want. And guys like Archie Costello. You have to outlast them, that's all." "Even if they kill you?" Archie's friend, Goober, asks him, confused by the difference in his one-time friend. "Even if they kill you", Jerry affirms. In the aftermath of that evil night when Jerry's future changed forever, Jerry changed, too. His method of dealing with every Archie Costello and Emile Janza in the world became to let them run over him whenever they wanted, to not fight back, to let them have their way because that's the only sure method for preserving oneself. And it works, too. It really does work, in life and in literature. And one can shake away those stray thoughts when they come, thoughts of successfully disturbing the universe and going against that river of humanity constantly flowing all in the same direction. Eventually, one might not even think about what has been lost. "Sometimes I wake up at night in a panic. Wondering: What will my life be like? And sometimes I even wonder: Who am I? What am I doing here, on this planet, in this city, in this house? And it gives me the shivers, makes me panic." —Goober, Beyond the Chocolate War, P. 160 I've heard it said that Robert Cormier's books are too bleak, that there isn't enough hope in them to light the way and lead readers to a better place on the other side of the story, with a more positive outlook on the world. What is a book supposed to do, after all, but shed light on a world of frequent darkness, equip us emotionally for any situation we'll face, and by extension help us eliminate some of the darkness of the world because our hope for it has been seen to function realistically in the pages of the stories we read? Yet I don't believe this precludes the use, and need, for a book like Beyond the Chocolate War. A real happy ending, not contrived or fabricated or thought up at the last moment as a means of tying a bright bow on the narrative package, has little meaning if there are no stories ending in confusion and despair to serve as contrast. Because we know in each Robert Cormier novel that things may well not end up all right, that death, entrapment, bleak isolation or psychological breakdown could be where the story is headed, it allows us real appreciation for whenever happiness is actually found in Cormier's books. Sometimes the story ends pleasantly and often it doesn't, but if it does, it means so much more, tastes all the sweeter, because we know it didn't have to be that way. Because it's Cormier, we know it didn't have to be that way.We can learn just as much from a book like Beyond the Chocolate War as from a tale of fulfilled hope; downbeat stories have just as much to teach us, and they deserve to be told. To his credit, Robert Cormier was never afraid to be the one to do the telling. I try to be careful about using extreme descriptive terms such as "brilliant", "ingenious", "legendary", and phrases like "all-time great" and "one of a kind" unless I really mean them. If I describe every author as "brilliant" or an "all-time great", the words don't mean anything; they're just noise, unnecessary buzzwords filling the air with relatively synonymous accord. I don't think there's any exaggeration, however, in the statement that Robert Cormier is an all-time great writer. If there is anyone greater than Cormier at the height of his powers, I have yet to encounter his or her books. I would give three and a half stars to Beyond the Chocolate War, a novel as philosophically substantial as it is provocatively suspenseful, one of the finest works from one of the greatest authors to ever write in the English language. It doesn't get much better than this.
Written ten years later, this sequel takes place a few months after its predecessor. Jerry Renault returns to Trinity after recovering in Canada; Obie meets and loses a girl, and plots revenge against Archie for all the injustices he’s done; Carter does more or less the same; David Caroni, the blackmailed A-student, has lost his mind and awaits orders for revenge from his piano; and a student who loves magic has built a guillotine that may play a role in the students’ revenge.This book is not quite as unbearably bleak as the first, though there’s certainly no traditionally happy ending: Archie receives no comeuppance; Jerry is beaten albeit unbowed; Obie gets no revenge, not even on the students who attempt to rape his girl. Brother Leon suffers the tiniest of indignities at the end, which is a nice moment. While I found the original to be believable as far as the students’ interactions, in this sequel I couldn’t put credence in Archie’s almost mystic power over the other students. When Archie tells Carter he will inevitably take his revenge against the jock for his betrayal, why Carter doesn’t just smash Archie to a bloody pulp is beyond me. [Read twice]
Do You like book Beyond The Chocolate War (1986)?
I loved the Chocolate War and thought I'd give the sequel a try. I knew it probably wouldn't be a good, but it's not too far off. The loose ends tend to be addressed. But what makes this book less powerful is the shift in focus from Archie (best antagonist in a novel?) to Obie and a series of other characters. It additionally didn't have the same impact because I wasn't outraged at the end like I was at The Chocolate War. Not everything worked out, but there was at least some since of justice. And that made of a less compelling tale. Definitely worth a read.
—Mike
This book was no where near as wonderful as the prequal, THE CHOCOLATE WAR by Robert Cormier. However, it follows the events of that prequal near perfectly.Set several months after Jerry's assault, we begin to see the events from the characters who initiated the events and those that actually carried the events to their heart-rending conclusion. Jerry is a ghost of his former self and still recovering physically, but his emotional state may well be irreparable. Of course, the "vigils" at Trinity Highschool are still at it, playing in the backgound, trying with great machinations to control and even ruin some of the students.In addition, there is a murder attempt which does not end quite as ecpected.If read as a stand alone, I do not think it would have gotten the awards it did. Howver, as a sequel it is grea to see what happens to the characters after Jerry has left.
—Kelly Knapp
As Jerry Renault is rushed to the hospital, he tries to tell Goober that he should never question authority and should follow their orders to stay out of trouble. The Chocolate War's lesson is that if you attempt to disturb the universe, the universe will react back, push you around and make you regret your decision. Beyond the Chocolate War, as the name indicates, is the sequel and deals with the aftermath of Trinity's crazy chocolate sale. It's almost the end of the year and many things have changed. Jerry has been on Canada, recovering from the brutal fight. However, he has returned to Monument. His physical wounds may be almost healed but his mental state is not. Meanwhile, the Vigils have regained their lost respect. Archie is more vile than in the previous book. Since Carter, Obie and Archie are seniors and therefore they are leaving school soon, other students want to assume positions in the Vigils. Brother Leon has become the headmaster of Trinity. All hope for a corrupt-free Trinity is lost. Robert Cormier uses the same writing style but the psychology and analyses in this book are deeper. The same themes in the first book are re-introduced but with a darker storyline and tone. The shades of evil are no longer only present on the "villains". The author shows the train of thought and transformation of the other characters as they are victims of evil and their reaction. Even though the book is more sombre than the first one, I consider it to be less pessimistic. There is evil in the world but how we react to it, it's our choice. We can become evil ourselves, run away or standing up for what you believe. I admire Jerry for going back to Trinity. Moving to another country or changing school is running away. In the end, he realizes that he has the power to choose and to be different. Janza might beat him up, torn him down, call him "fairy"; but he can't get to Jerry's head if he doesn't let him.(I am surprised that no one has mentioned the groups of three on the book: The Vigils, Brother Leon and the school; Obie, Carter and Archie; Jerry, Goober and Janza. Or maybe I am overanalyzing it.)
—Jenny
