Glen Ridge High School’s eighth-grade English curriculum features some of the best and worst books in the district’s English classes. While each one is linked by its dystopian themes, there is still a wide variety in the selections. From a memoir about the horrible conditions of one of the world’s most terrible atrocities, to a classic about book burnings, to a novella with some of the best vignettes one will ever read, each book maintains its own distinct identity and a distinct level of quality. Here is a ranking of all of the books in the curriculum, which I hope will be helpful for future students and provide insight into each work students have to read in the eighth grade.
The worst of the eighth-grade books, by a wide margin, is Fahrenheit 451, the classic dystopia by Ray Bradbury. The primary issue with the novel is that Bradbury attempts to cram far too many themes, allusions, and literary devices into its short, 200-page plot. This leaves the novel feeling incoherent and overly filled with unnecessary content that only makes it an unenjoyable book to read and does not relate at all to the novel’s central themes. The book is also far too difficult to be read in an eighth-grade classroom, typically being studied by juniors and seniors, and being difficult at even that level. The book is difficult, not in a positive way like Homer’s Odyssey, but in a bad way, where each sentence feels deliberately crafted to create artificial difficulty.
While Fahrenheit 451 is the worst dystopian story of the eighth-grade curriculum, Anthem is not far ahead of it in terms of quality. Ayn Rand’s novella is not bad due to its complexities, like Fahrenheit, but instead, suffers from the ideas present in its short plot. The objectification of The Golden One and Equality’s other actions hardly paint him in a sympathetic manner, resulting in a novella where the audience is led to root against the protagonist. The book culminates in the worst conclusion of any of the books in the eighth-grade curriculum, where Equality adopts the name of Prometheus and begins living with the Golden one, whom he dubs Gaia, in a house in the wilderness, away from society, but planning to eventually return and conquer the corrupt dystopian council. The entire ending felt bizarre and further weakened Equality as a character.
I Am Malala is the weaker of the two strong nonfiction selections in the eighth-grade curriculum. It is the memoir of Malala Yousafzai, who was shot for her actions of speaking out against the Taliban terrorist group. The memoir details the powerful story of her upbringing and recovery. There are not many negative things to say about it, and it is just an overall important and simultaneously uplifting and tragic story that could be the best book in any other curriculum. It is only fourth in this particular ranking due to the sheer quality of the other works read in the eighth grade.
The effectiveness of George Orwell’s Animal Farm lies plainly in its simplicity. The story is relatively short and simple, with the farm animals providing an easily understandable allegory for the people of Russia during its infamous revolution. Unlike Anthem and Fahrenheit, the good dystopian concepts of which were poorly executed, Animal Farm manages to tell its story in an entertaining and engaging way that proves highly uncharacteristic for a book of its time, but is a welcome difference. The book’s ease is a contributing factor to its quality, but the most important factor is the depth and social commentary present in its pages. While the novel is just a retelling of the Russian Revolution, it manages to offer insightful ideas regarding said revolt, elaborating on the sheer evil of the pigs and especially Napoleon, the Joseph Stalin-inspired pig. The things that really make an impact within the novel, however, are Boxer’s death, a metaphor for the terrible treatment of the USSR’s working class, and the ending, in which all of the pigs become the humans they initially revolted against. Not only does the ending perfectly parallel its real, historical inspiration, but it also continues to live in my mind–and the minds of many other readers–for the chilling way Orwell’s prose describes the transformation.
Night is the most important book in the entire eighth-grade curriculum. It is, of course, Elie Wiesel’s chilling memoir of his time as a prisoner during the Holocaust, his attempt to describe his experience in an indescribable horror. At every turn, soul-crushing brutality is presented by Wiesel’s captors and the other prisoners, with seemingly infinite examples of the terrors he endured. There are many pictures painted within the memoir that seem to illustrate this brutality the most. Whether it be a prisoner winding up dead for his crime of trying to eat soup, the truly terrifying mass hangings, or the scene in which Wiesel allows his father to be beaten because of the simple forces of fear and self-preservation, the book manages to discuss the tragedies of the Holocaust with the gravitas that they deserve. Night is also thematically rich, with Wiesel’s crisis of faith and questions of morality being important additions to the story. Ultimately, though, the book’s, and it’s author’s, peak, comes at the very end, when Wiesel returns home, but is unable to recognize his own broken, traumatized reflection as himself when he looks in the mirror. It is a devastating end to a nearly perfect book. However, as perfect as the book may be, it is not the best in the eighth-grade curriculum.
The best eighth-grade book, unexpectedly, is Sandra Cisneros’ novella, The House on Mango Street. While Night is the best at showcasing absolute fear and despair, Cisneros, through the story of Esperanza, an adolescent girl growing up on a poor street in Chicago, is able to masterfully make the readers feel every emotion out there. It is told in a series of vignettes, which is the format that makes the story and its effect work the best. Each vignette manages to make readers feel whatever emotion Cisneros desires, or invoke every thought that her work provokes, or simply convey the story in an almost-perfect manner. There is also a direct correlation between the intensity of each vignette and how far along it is in the novella, with the contents of the story maturing as Esperanza matures within the book. In addition to this being possibly the most effective portrayal of growing up I have seen, it also allows the later vignettes to feel more powerful and tragic, and emphasizes the power of the ultimately hopeful conclusion. There is not a single negative comment I can say about the book, and it certainly earns its place as the best of the eighth-grade books.
