Is it true that before he had the shelter built, my father had a twelve-foot fence erected around the property so that no one would be able to see in? No, I tell him, that’s not true. Besides, building a fence would have only invited questions and scrutiny.
Was it true that building the shelter took every spare cent my family had, and as a result we had to forgo vacations, dinners out, and other leisure activities? While I was not privy to my family’s finances as a child, it’s doubtful. I recall that we vacationed on Cape Cod and skied in Vermont, and we went to Chinese and Italian restaurants.
In the backyard, except for one large weeping willow, the trees I remember are gone. Here concrete steps lead to a subterranean wooden door. Before we descend, the owner tells me the story of having this entrance built: after inspecting the shelter from the inside, the contractor estimated that the job of digging the new outside entrance would take no more than three or four days. At first the digging went quickly, but when the workers started to break through the cinder-block concrete wall, they found something unexpected — an interior lining of quarter-inch-thick iron plating.
A welder had to be brought in to cut through the iron with an acetylene torch, and when this was done, there was yet another surprise — on the other side of the iron plating was a second wall of cinder blocks.
“Your father really wanted to protect you,” the owner says as he leads me down the entrance steps.
I wish I could say that once inside the shelter, old, forgotten memories were unearthed, but almost everything down there is different now. The bunks and wooden shelves of supplies are gone, replaced with metal file cabinets. The overhead water tank has been removed, and a dehumidifier hums in one corner. The steel ventilator still pokes out of the wall, but the crank is missing.
Holding a flashlight, the owner leads me around the shield wall and into the narrow corridor beneath the trapdoor. The rungs in the wall are still there, shrouded in spiderwebs. The owner offers an unnecessary apology for the webs, saying he rarely comes down to the shelter anymore, and it has been many years since he’s looked on this side of the shield wall.
Later, we leave the shelter and I thank him for allowing me to visit. I get in my car, drive past a few houses, and stop at the top of the hill for which the street is named. Lining the curb are the houses of my childhood friends and neighbors, a few unchanged, but others almost unrecognizable thanks to redesign and renovation. Here my thoughts are once again filled with the memories — of baseball and football games we played on this street, of the Good Humor Man’s ringing bells and how we’d all run home to beg our mothers for quarters for ice cream, of playing in piles of leaves, splashing in puddles, and building snowmen. Ours were truly innocent childhoods.
People say that the era of post–World War II American innocence died on November 22, 1963, with the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. But I wonder if perhaps that innocence began to fade earlier than that, with the Cold War nuclear arms race and the threat of mutually assured destruction. Certainly that was the first time my friends and I became aware that there were countries thousands of miles away, on the other sides of vast oceans, that wanted to destroy us. Countries populated by people we didn’t know, had never met, and had no reason to dislike.
As history shows, the Cuban Missile Crisis was averted and no bombs fell. The American people were led to believe that Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev backed down and ordered the ships carrying missiles and other weapons to return to Russia. In actuality, though, the crisis was forestalled when President Kennedy secretly agreed to Khrushchev’s demand to remove all American nuclear missiles located in Turkey — on the condition that this information not be made public. Thus, what was presented to our country as a military triumph was at best a draw, if not a defeat.
Why is it that since the dawn of civilization, we have persisted in following a pattern where mere handfuls of influential men manage to convince or force great masses of peaceful human beings to fear and hate one another enough to go to war? Has the result ever been anything other than misery, death, and destruction?
More than fifty years have passed since that week in October of 1962 when the world came the closest it’s ever been to complete annihilation. And yet we are still at war.
Will we never learn?
My heartfelt thanks to:
Stephen Barbara, for getting behind this book and steering it to the wonderful folks at Candlewick.
Karen Lotz, for taking a leap of faith on a partial manuscript from an author she’d never worked with before.
And finally, the magnificent Kaylan Adair, whose long, thoughtful, elegantly phrased editorial letters were precious gifts.
1. Fallout is historical fiction, but it rewrites the past. What are the true historical events depicted in this novel? What are the imagined events? Why do you think the author chose to alter the facts of 1962? What do you think he is trying to tell us about the present?
2. The chapters in this novel alternate between the months leading up to the attack and the days immediately following. How does the novel’s structure enhance the story’s suspense? How does it deepen your understanding of its characters, especially the eleven-year-old narrator, Scott Porter?
3. For much of the late twentieth century, the United States and the Soviet Union fought each other in the Cold War. What is the difference between a “cold” war and a “hot” one? After reading this book, which would you rather experience? Why?
4. What is the historical connection between Russia and the Soviet Union? Why do the characters in Fallout use both names interchangeably? What happened to the country known as the Soviet Union? Why?
5. Before the attack, Mr. Shaw makes fun of the bomb shelter, but afterward he forces himself and his family into it and even keeps others out. Do you think he’s a hypocrite? What would you have done in his situation?
6. Why was Mrs. Porter opposed to building a bomb shelter? Why does Mr. Porter decide to build it anyway? Before the attack, which parent would you have agreed with? Why?
7. What are Scott’s greatest worries in the hours immediately after the attack? What are they as the days go on?
8. Evil was a word that Scott and his classmates often used to describe the Soviet leaders. What were their reasons for this judgment? How did they regard President Kennedy? How did their new teacher, Mr. Kasman, challenge their beliefs?
9. Ronnie could be a liar, a bully, a Peeping Tom, and even on occasion a thief. So why is he Scott’s best friend? What do the two boys fight about just before the attack? What happens to their friendship in the shelter?
10. Janet spends one night each week babysitting and cleaning for the Porter family. Why do they know so little about her family?
11. Why does Mr. McGovern want to treat Mrs. Porter and Janet differently from everyone else in the shelter? To him, what makes their lives less valuable? How do the other adults respond to his argument? How would you?
12. For Scott, the worst part of being in the bomb shelter “is the way the grown-ups act.” What is the difference between the behavior of the children and that of the adults in the shelter? Why can’t the adults get along with one another?
13. All the old rules of modesty disappear after a few days. “What’s the big deal?” Scott finds himself wondering. “Why was it ever a big deal?” How would you answer his question? Why does our society value modesty?
14. Mrs. Shaw predicts a terrifying future for everyone in the shelter, but Mr. Porter tries to comfort his worried son. “Things will be different from before,” he says, “but right now we don’t know how.” What do you think happens to the Porters after the novel ends? How do you imagine your family would be different today if there really had been a nuclear war in 1962?
15. Mr. Porter believes that hope is “all we’ve got to keep us going.” Why is hope so powerful? Why doesn’t Mr. McGovern trust it?
16. In his author’s note, Todd Strasser asks: “Has the result [of war] ever been any
thing other than misery, death, and destruction?” What do you think? Has anything good ever come from a war?
Todd Strasser is the author of more than 140 novels for children and young adults, most notably The Wave and Give a Boy a Gun, which are taught in classrooms around the world. The author Skypes with classes who read his books. He lives in Westchester County, New York, and he grew up on Long Island, where his father built a bomb shelter for the family in 1962.
Candlewick Press
www.candlewick.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2013 by Todd Strasser
Cover photographs: copyright © 2013 by Image Source Photography/Veer (houses); copyright © 2013 by Khalid Hawe/Getty Images (man); copyright © 2013 by Lisa Stokes/Getty Images (boy); copyright © 2013 by Alloy Photography/Veer (dirt)
Photograph in the author’s note courtesy of the author
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First electronic edition 2013
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2012955123
ISBN 978-0-7636-5534-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-7636-6722-1 (electronic)
Candlewick Press
99 Dover Street
Somerville, Massachusetts 02144
visit us at www.candlewick.com
Todd Strasser, Fallout
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