As an educator, I’m all for YA books with the courage to explore topics such as drugs, sex, alcohol, and mental illness. These are tough subjects that shouldn’t be ignored or tiptoed around for the sake of puritanical beliefs. When publishing is brave enough to publish these books, it’s a statement: “Hey, we see you. We hear you. We stand with you.” However, this isn’t the case for SMOKE.
SMOKE is about a straight-A responsible girl who decides to run a weed-growing business to save her family from bankruptcy. The official synopsis goes in-depth about how she, the resident booksmart good girl, comes to this decision: by reading a line from Robert Frost. Of course. The official synopsis, also, uses coded language to let us, the audience, know that Honor Augustine isn’t like other drug lords: avid rule-follower, never set out to be a felon, academic, all-star, avid recycler, dedicated daughter, literal embodiment of her name. It isn’t just trying to sell to us that this desperate sixteen-year-old girl only wants to start a weed-growing business to save her family. It also gives us a spoiler of how she’ll do it: by using white privilege.
When you open up the ARC, you’re hit with an author’s note explaining the themes of the story and the author’s inspiration behind them. In the last paragraph, the author mentions the unfair incarceration of Black and Latinx people in states where weed is illegal AND legal. If the whole story is the idea of this innocent smart responsible white teen becoming a “felon” to save her family, surely the author will explore race, privilege, and drugs, right? The answer is no. This book doesn’t explore white privilege and drugs meaningfully. In fact, it weaponizes it like a toddler with a switchblade. It proves that white teens can get away with doing illegal things because society must cradle them instead of giving them consequences when they break the rules.
After Honor discovers her family’s greenhouse business is going bankrupt, we spend the first 150 pages watching her, an honor-roll student, making stupid choices. Before you say “but she’s a teen and teens make stupid choices”, don’t. If you market this as a YA Weeds, if you push down my throat she’s one of the brightest kids in her school, if you want me to believe she’s gonna be a minor drug lord then I expect her not to make clumsy silly choices. Not mistakes. CHOICES.
Examples:
*asking your best friend to commit a felony that’ll cost both your futures at a crowded lacrosse game
*researching about weed on a public library computer...even though you have a cellphone
*meeting up with a known highschool drug dealer to ask them to take you to their grower then grabbing them, begging them, and bribing them with $40 to cough up the info to which the drug dealer threatens to break her fingers and tells her asking that could get her killed
*going to an unfamiliar location alone to meet a supposed weed grower
*finding a group of on-school-campus stoners, bribing them with your lunch, and asking them where their grower is then going to said grower ALONE once again
Honor stumbles from plot point to plot point not using any lick of common sense. She puts herself in dangerous situations and uncleverly bunny-skips out of them somehow. Everything goes her way. How? Because we’re continuously told that she’s a smart good girl, but in actuality, she’s a smart good white girl. Her white innocence is her ticket to getting what she wants. When she finally meets a grower, the big climactic moment is just ill-placed comedy.
He’s a typical silly-guy stoner, a wannabe surfer, and apparently a mechanical engineering genius. So genius he developed a device that makes the output air of his grow-room smell like spring meadow. No longer, we are in contemporary fiction. Now, we’ve ventured into sci-fi because you can reduce the smell of your grow room’s output air, but you can’t CHANGE it into something else entirely like a spring meadow-scented Febreeze.
After stoner-genius and her older brother agree to help her run her weed-growing business, we get little random tidbits of how it’s working out sprinkled in a soup of melodrama regarding sexualized rumors, gaslighting, bullying, and literal tormenting. As a love interest, Cole didn’t impress me. After repeatedly taking a minor antagonist’s side for the sake of friendship, he lost his luster. Woods tries to buff him up and make him shine as the love interest Honor deserves, but by then, his reputation was tarnished to me.
She even tries to redeem the minor antagonist, Xander, who threatened to assault Honor, got aggressive when she turned him down for a date, gaslighted her, and ridiculed her every chance he got. Generally, I enjoy a good redemption arc, but the public library scene where he escalated to a budding rapist, turned any future enjoyment into ash.
Straight from the source: “Cole might not see you for what you are, but by the time I’m finished, he’ll realize what I already know. That mouth of yours is only good for one thing.”
So, that’s a no redemption arc for me, dawg.
The plot twists and red herrings were decent. The identity of the major antagonist surprised me, but didn’t impress me. At first, I couldn't understand why until I remembered it’s literally the same plot twist in the movie, 21 Jump Street.
There were so many anachronisms that took me out of the story. A story that’s supposed to be set in the present day. Ding-a-lings, dinguses, yo mama jokes, guys with hair spiked by porcupines, and so much more. You have a MODERN teen with a cellphone and her first instinct is to go to a public library computer to research weed. The dialogue was either outdated or trying too hard to sound modern. For instance, teens don’t hashtag anything in a handwritten note. So, while the #onetruth moments are cute, it isn’t what teens do.
Whether she believes it or not, Honor comes from a privileged background even though the author actively tries to make it attempt like the girl is poor. Even with a family in bankruptcy, they own a farm with acres of land, a greenhouse business, multiple cars, and though Woods attempts to make Honor money-conscious by worrying about her personal savings account. This character trait becomes null and void when a teen literally says having nearly 4-grand in her savings account is “meager.”
But once again, Honor is different. She’s a well-off girl but she’s “poor” because of bankruptcy. She isn’t like other mean evil drug lords. She’s friendly and innocent and she’s doing it to save her family. Something law enforcement takes into account at the very end of the story. You see, even though Honor and her crew sold thousands of dollars of weed. Even though she repeatedly reminded you that she’s a drug lord. Even though she's a felon. Even though what she realizes from the beginning what she’s doing is illegal-illegal-illegal, law enforcement assures everyone involved they’ve recommended LENIENCY to due to the ages and motives for running an illegal weed-growing business.
A quote from a detective: “Mr. Augustine, understand that we are still very early in the investigation. However, given the unique circumstances of this case, coupled with the kids’ ages, motives, and state laws, I’m strongly recommending leniency.”
A quote from Honor: “Well, we have to do some community service--highway and public garden cleanup, that kind of thing. But we got really lucky.”
But another teen drug dealer, an enemy of Honor, goes straight to juvie for trafficking, possession, and selling. This character is a BAD kid. Honor and her crew are GOOD kids, her father defends and the detective over the case agrees. To top things off, even though their weed business went up in flames literally, our resident comic relief secretly stashed the drug money until it was convenient to reveal as such.
Not only does Honor get leniency because she’s a good kid. Not only does Honor get only community service because she’s a good kid. Honor, also, gets to keep the drug money to help rebuild her family’s greenhouse business. All is good with the world. Hip-hip-hooray! So, what’s the lesson to be learned? For Honor, nothing. For us, white privilege is the perfect weapon to commit a crime with.
At this point, it only proved to me that the last paragraph of that author’s note was an afterthought bandaid to conceal the fact Woods wrote this only for white people in mind. I don’t see Black teens taking away anything positive or empowering from this story. She speaks on the historical wrongs of Black and Latinx people being imprisoned for weed charges, but writes a story like a guilty confession as to why white teens are oftentimes treated with kid gloves when it comes to crimes big and small.
You see how the media paints these “good kids” who only made a “mistake”; who misguidedly only tried to help; they are so young with lots of learning to do. And we all know what “bad kids” look like; the ones who “deserved” that prison sentence; the fifteen-year-old Black kids who get sentenced as adults; Black people who get gunned down for selling weed to take care of their family; the Black people who get trapped in a headlock by a police officer because their car smelled like weed smoke.
The only thing the author does well is the plotline regarding the MC’s father dealing with PTSD. As someone with PTSD and the daughter of a war veteran with PTSD, I connected well with the scenes between the MC & her father. It was the only time she felt human to me which makes sense because it’s directly inspired by the author’s life. This is the sole reason I’ll add an additional star to my rating.
All in all, this story isn’t for Black teens. Period.
2 out of 5 stars