“The Westing Game,” by Ellen Raskin
Penguin Books, New York, 1978, 182 pages, Grades 7 and higher.
In the nearly 10 years that I have been writing the “Children’s Literature Bookshelf,” I have strenuously tried to never attack an author’s literary position. While I will continue to seek to recommend books of high literary value, one important issue raised in this novel that needs to be addressed.
“The Westing Game” by Ellen Raskin won the Newbery Medal for the “most distinguished contribution to children’s literature” in 1979. It is a complicated but fascinating book, with its many subplots and endearing characters. On some lists it has been voted as one of the top 100 adolescent novels in history. It is not surprising to me that the novel has achieved such renown, given its literary qualities.
Having said all these flattering things about the book, I now find myself attacking Raskin’s viewpoint. I accuse her of supporting and justifying genetic selection at the conclusion of the book.
Sam Westing, a millionaire, has agreed to give his inheritance to the relative who deciphers the puzzles involved in his estate. The central character, Turtle Wexler, cleverly puts all the pieces together by story’s end. Almost all the characters in the novel exhibit the normal flaws we see in people. Only one person, 15-year-old Chris Theodorakis, is consistently kind and charitable to everyone in the story. As well, Chris is the only character in the book with a serious disability.
As the “normal” people plot against those who may gain the inheritance, Chris watches birds flying over Lake Michigan and tries to be helpful to everyone. Gentle Chris is in a wheelchair and goes into twitches and spasms at times. Ellen Raskin presents Chris in a generous light throughout the novel but at the conclusion shows a horrible blindness towards the disabled.
During the moving and poignant ending, one of the characters suddenly reveals that she is not going to have children because they may inherit Chris’ disease. The author presents this statement as though there are no problems with deciding to not have children because of the risk of genetic problems. Raskin presents the decision as a sad but necessary thing to do. Because it is necessary, the decision becomes almost noble.
This brings us to the next issue. In the novel, the only truly admirable person is Chris Theodorakis. While the other characters grow in maturity and express authentic love at times, Chris expresses love at all times. Having treated Chris with tenderness throughout the novel, the author then leaves the reader with the impression that it is a good thing to make sure that people with genetic problems, like Chris Theodorakis, are never born. But why would you eliminate the most virtuous person in the book? Quite simply, because he requires additional care which makes him expensive and not useful. We will put him out of our misery. Unfortunately for “normal people” this also takes away the person capable of teaching life’s lessons in learning charity.
Everyone saw St. John Paul II as a tower of strength early in his papacy. It seemed that there was nothing he could not do. This made him appear useful. At the end of his life, afflicted with Parkinson’s disease, the Holy Father could barely stand or talk. How “useful” was he then? To stand and address groups he needed to cling to his crosier to keep from falling down. Many people did not read his splendid encyclicals, but few did not understand that important lesson the pope taught. We can only stand if we place our trust in God and cling to the cross of Christ.
Your children will be exposed to the evils of euthanasia and genetic selection. Teach them to resist these sinful ideas. These plans both oppose God’s law and kill people like Chris Theodorakis whom God has sent to teach “normal” people how to live holy lives. Remember that through the guidance of the Church you are the primary educators of your children. Reject evil external forces that try to impose their wills on your families. Let’s be like St. John Paul II, and draw our strength and courage by leaning on the Cross.
