Party School | Jon Hart

The line, “TTK is short for the Taliban King. He has an insane story. His parents had been in the Taliban, and he’s an orphan,’’ on page two of Party School was one of the first sentences I have ever read that made me take a step back from the page and do a double take. Though this was not how the novel first introduced itself, it is certainly a memorable line which could be critiqued for its nonchalant reference to a piece of history that traumatized many and has solidified itself as a harrowing, controversial part of American history. The line nonetheless lays the focal ground for the tone, ideas, and humor of what was to come.

In a more subjective way, the tone of the book felt similar to that of what I would find in an 80’s coming-of-age movie, such as Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Breakfast Club, or Heathers: raw, unadulterated, and relatable. Coming into this novel, I felt a breath of fresh air when I didn’t feel patronized by this idea of teenagers having a pure, innocent, prudent perspective of the world, ignorant of all its faults. The author did not hold pre-conceived notions of a young adult's ability to rationalize adult themes. With the growing influence of technology and social media, it would be a shame to see a novel for young adults try to filter out any of the reality of the hardships that come with growing up and discovering the core of adulthood, especially in more privileged stations. Thankfully, Party School does the exact opposite of my concerns, and I find myself connecting heavily to that feeling of drifting on a raft, where the tides seem to rise and set around you, channeling wherever they desire. Yet, you are stuck on those planks of bamboo, going whenever the wind feels like stirring, with little autonomy of your own. Trapped, some might say, by expectations, friends, romances, and society as a whole.

The main character of Jon Hart’s novel, Dylan Millis, is your average, less than average, all-American boy, who finds himself in a place which goes against what is expected for a boy in his environment: a party school, or a college known for students being for attentive to parties than academics. The foundation of this storyline is overdone to the extent that a museum could be erected just for boys of this persuasion in literature. Though, it can still be entertaining when done right, that could explain why the trope is so popular. Dylan isn’t a perfect protagonist; he gets into more than enough instances of conflict, that are down-to-earth enough to be understandable yet done in a way that keeps the reader wanting more. For instance, Dylan’s internal struggle with his maturity and existence, and his external struggle in maintaining a relationship with his high school sweetheart, Rosemary, who encourages they experiment with dating. A high school relationship is starkly different from a relationship with two adults, who can drink, pay taxes, stay up as long as they want, have their hormones steady and frontal lobes better developed. This turmoil between internal and external conflict, between a more subconscious deep-seated problem versus a more, to be honest, issue that only two eighteen-year-olds would have, adds a layer of complexity to Dylan’s situation. It serves as a good example of when seemingly trivial conflict fosters deep character development. As we see within Dylan, once he slowly matures, gets his driver’s license, and finally rationalizes who he is. One of the rare things which all humans desire, is to understand. There’s a desire to understand yourself, the fears, the hopes, the pain, and the joy. Learning these things, as Party School shows, comes from experience, in ways that are unconventional, yet stick.

Overall, I enjoyed the novel. It's pleasant enough for a quick read, as you drink tea and watch time buzz around you. It's sweet, funny, down-to-earth, and honest. It is definitely, a true American novel, with all the type beats that one would expect in an American, coming-of-age piece: sports, humility, romance, humor, and a bit of underdog charm. As this is Jon Hart’s first novel, I would say it is a strong first start, and I desire to see where he brings himself in the future, growing and evolving as an author. The publisher The Sager Group, sells itself as a multimedia content brand, for the artist and their free will. Though I have been skeptical of such things in the past, it is nonetheless nice to support the arts directly. So, I shall end this article the exact same way the novel ended itself. “Well then, I’m in,’’ (page 212).