Matthew Quick, author of Silver Linings Playbook, takes young adult readers into the mind a very disturbed, suicidal, homicidal eighteen year old. The author is talented, and the mind game he plays with his readers is expertly delivered. The question is: do you want to go inside the mind of a Dylan Klebold or an Eric Harris? What is the purpose?

The purpose here seems to be to get readers to understand and sympathize with the shooters, and I don’t necessarily disagree with that purpose, although I’m a little weary of the push toward instant understanding and forgiveness from everybody for all terrorists and killers everywhere. Forgiveness takes time, and it’s the job of the victim, not of the onlookers. Anyway, although I can sympathize with Leonard Peacock and abhor the tragedy that brings him to the point of committing murder and suicide, I can’t see that this novel gets us as a society any closer to a solution or resolution for the people who endure the aftermath of such crimes or for the perpetrators.

In contrast, I read Wally Lamb’s novel, The Hour I First Believed, about the Columbine massacre and its aftermath, about a month ago, and it quite impressed me. Although I can’t recommend it unreservedly, because of the (unnecessary) sexual content, I do think the novel had a lot to say about the ripple effect of all of our actions, especially evil, violent actions like those of Klebold and Harris. Lamb’s novel (for adults) is about the victims of the Columbine shooting, about how victims can become agents of evil themselves, and ultimately about redemption.

Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock, on the other hand, is NOT about redemption. The ending is ambiguous, to say the least, and although the reader is led to sympathize with the title character, the message of the novel is that no one can help Leonard, no one can really stop him from carrying out his murderous intentions. Maybe, just maybe he can stop himself, but if this is true, why doesn’t he stop before he starts? And if he is so ill that his thinking is warped beyond good and evil, then how does a night on the couch of his favorite teacher change him enough to get him to see reason?

Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock is a bleak, bleak look at the mind of a disturbed killer, and the brief essay into self-salvation at the end of the story is not convincing. If Leonard were a real person, I would be quite worried that he might still be out there, plotting who-knows-what. As it is, I would not want this book to be reading material for any of the real “Leonard Peacocks” who might be out there; it would, I believe, affirm their disposition to violence and self-aggrandizement, rather than encouraging them to get help or ramp down the craziness. I’m not talking about book-banning; I’m just saying that Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock wouldn’t be on my recommended list for the suicidally or homicidally inclined–as if we know who those people are in the first place.

Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock is nominated for the Cybil Awards in the category of Young Adult Fiction.