By Jonathan Evison© 2019, Algonquin Books
336 Pages
ISBN 13: 978-1616209230
I had no idea what to expect when I selected Lawn Boy as my second banned book for 2025. I didn’t even know why it was banned, only that it was one of the 10 most banned books in the last few years. I started reading it on a Saturday, and finished it two days later. I honestly had trouble putting it down.
After finishing it, I looked up the reasons for the book’s banned status and found it was sexually explicit content, as well as LGBTQ+ content. First, “LGBTQ+ content” is part of life. It’s part of being human. Why is this an issue? Second, to be fair, there is a bit of sexuality in the story—the main character is 22-year-old Mike Muñoz, who’s trying to find himself—but it isn’t egregious. I’ve seen romance books with far more explicit erotica; they weren’t banned. So why this book?
The larger element here, the story itself, is really about racism, class divides, and the issues that are regular parts of life for the working poor. Mike, whose father was Mexican (but Mike’s a “good Mexican,” not a “Mexican Mexican,” per Gobels, another story character), and his special needs brother were raised by their mother, who worked (still works) double shifts as a waitress to try and support the family. Mike, who isn’t afraid of hard work, finds it difficult to find and hold a job. He’d love finding work as a landscaper. It’s his passion.
But part of his problem is that he has a really hard time taking disrespect from the wealthy homeowners, or business owners who might employ him for the lowest possible hourly wage. All he wants, besides a living wage, is a little dignity, a little respect. And he’s worked hard for it. It doesn’t seem like too much to ask. And he’s only willing to take so much from his employers or their clients—like the old woman who insists he clean the dog poop off her deck, or the other old woman who expects him to move her furniture or carry her trash cans to the end of her mile-long driveway as if it’s part of his landscaping job. And he has no problem telling them to f*ck right off if they go too far. Yeah. His mouth does get him in trouble a bit. Hey, he’s 22 years old.
Despite his tendency to speak aloud those thoughts we’re taught to keep inside, Mike is a great guy. He’s generous, and kind, and loving. It was easy to relate to him, to get behind him in his struggle. Every time he’d just start to get ahead, something awful would happen; like the time he got a great job offer, and on the way, his glued-together junker of a truck broke down on the side of the highway. He had no money to fix it, no way to get the rest of the way to the job site, and no means to get a new truck.
So I can’t help but wonder if part of the reason this book was banned wasn’t the sexuality, but the poignant, raw, plain-spoken depiction of what it is to be part of the working poor.
But issues of its banned content aside, this is one of the best, most engaging and evocative books I’ve read in a long time. Even though I’ve not lived Mike’s story myself, I’ve tasted bits of it, felt his frustration with wanting to be free of the restrictions that come with lower income, wanted to break free of them so that I could do what I loved, instead of what I must. Lawn Boy is filled with humor, rage, hope, family, frustration, acceptance, and fulfillment from page one to the very end. Reading his story, watching his character and his journey of discovery unfold, seeing his spunk and his determination to find a way through the morass of his life, I came to love Mike Muñoz and his family. I cried near the end, and when the last page was turned, I felt sad, like I’d lost a friend. I cannot recommend this book highly enough.