Penpal is one of those novels in which the events do not unfold in a clear and direct linear chronological order. The story comes at the reader out of order, learning things about the “future” before learning things about the “past.” This can be a frustrating way of receiving a story for many people and it doesn’t help facilitate things for them when so many stories that presented in a non-linear fashion do not really require it. (Example: about half the episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show, which are told in a flashback manner despite no obvious reason for doing so.) It has been suggested by some critics that the best way to determine whether a story told in non-linear fashion is fundamentally sound is to rearrange it chronological order: if it still captures the imagination then it is solid story, if not then it is a gimmick.
That isn’t necessarily so. Some stories demand to be told out of order and even the really solid examples may not retain the quality of their creativity if presented merely in the fashion of cause-effect-cause-effect. The best choice for stories told in a non-linear fashion are those in which the narrative flow may not be the real point. Citizen Kane is one of the most famous examples: the point is not to tell the story of Charles Foster Kane, but rather to reveal how a man becomes a mythic figure through the perspective of others. The point of Penpal isn’t really the origin of the strange Polaroids or the mystery of what happened to Josh, but rather how even the purest of good intentions can sometimes have negative consequences never conceived or imagined. It is not the revelation of ugly truths that drives the narrative, but the withholding of truths for what appear to be perfectly fine reasons.
The structure of Penpal is almost designed for the express purpose of alienating some readers to the point of driving them away while at the same time pushing the buttons of others to turn the reading experience into a non-stop binge. The phrase “page turner” applies to Penpal in a more appropriate way that it has been applied to many other novels far less likely to stimulate binge reading. And yet, it is equally true that many will give up after a ten or twenty pages not because the story isn’t holding their attention, but because the time leaps are too jarring. It reflects a simple truth about people: some enjoy putting jigsaw puzzles together and others have never been able to finish one.
Those who the challenge of working at reading a story will likely come to love Penpal. Those who prefer to have the author do all the work for them may run into trouble. The saving grace of the novel is that the story is worth working at. It is an example of a story that likely would not be as good if told strictly in a linear chronological fashion. But—contrary to what those critics who apply that badly conceived test for determination of the solidity of a story’s foundation—that doesn’t mean it is weak story or that its structure is merely a gimmick to distract from the weakness its narrative. Penpal is more like Citizen Kane than the Dick Van Dyke Show—a story where the way it is told is essential to the story it is telling.
