"Nothing" is a book that is really something

To celebrate the book's "Best of the Year" nomination from FOREWARD magazine, here is a reprint of last year's blog on "Nothing:"

Many popular novelists have a formula: For Tom Clancy, it's military intrigue. For John Grisham, it's law and injustice. Elmore Leonard draws on his law enforcement background to explore a criminal underworld that's painfully dysfunctional at its core.

Many novelists sell because of their predictability, as well as their prestige. Their work is put together like a Hardy Boys Mystery novel - or, better yet, a McDonald's cheeseburger - where each one has the same flavor as the last. Few have the Hemmingway gift of producing literature so distinctive that each new piece appears as though more than one author is behind the work.

Lurking behind the mega-rich novelists are a host of up-and-coming authors who have audiences that are not nearly the size of a Stephen King's - yet - but their topics are so diverse that each new novel is more of a surprise than it is formulaic.

One such author is Robin Friedman, who has written a series of critically acclaimed children's and young-adult novels that explore the trivial - though often humorous - experiences of kids as they grow up.

Her next book, "Nothing," which will be released in August, is a slight diversion from that, largely because it opens the door to a more serious topic that's rarely explored in any form of media: Male eating disorders.

What's amazing is that - despite the fact that her previous work did not dig deep into the convoluted psychology of youth - "Nothing" is able to capture the dark and light elements of an illness that would be tough for anyone to describe, including the people who live it.

And Friedman even admits to being surprised herself because men, or boys, are not typically associated with an illness that's more closely associated with women - and nearly glamorized by female stars such as Nicole Richie and Mary Kate Olsen.

"When I tell people I have a book coming out about a boy with bulimia, they are very, very surprised," Friedman said. "Most people, including myself, were not aware that men and boys could suffer from eating disorders."

I've known Robin for 22 years, and she has a gift for comic timing in her storytelling that would make any stage actor envious. Indeed, she's practically "Seinfeldian" in her ability to demonstrate the qualities of people that are unique, idiosyncratic and, in many ways, downright funny.

"Nothing," however, shows how Friedman has the ability to easily crossover into another, more serious topic without losing her voice - particularly her ability to peer into the human soul and discover what's uniquely compelling about each individual.

"It was a challenge for me to present this story from the point of view of my main character, 17-year-old Parker Rabinowitz, because it's told in first person in his voice," Friedman said. "And, like all of the other characters in the book, Parker does not know, nor understand, what's happening to him — why he's binging, why he's purging, what it means, what it is, what the consequences will ultimately bring."

Yes, the subjects are young adults, or teenagers, who are the typical characters in Robin's novels. But they're not prepping for a casting call on "High School Musical." They're not the players in another simplistic "ABC AfterSchool Special" that explores - yet again - the dangers of smoking and taking drugs.

No, Friedman's novel explores the dark, though complex world of male eating disorders while digging up the complexities of people who could fit the prototype of the typical teenager - or, the prototype of what a teenager should be like. But, in reality, they don't.

Indeed, Friedman gives these characters more credit than that. They're young adults with adult problems. And they're problems that are not typically associated with age, socio-economic class and, in particular, their gender.

Parker, for one, confronts eating disorders with the vulnerability of a teenager, but he also shows the insecurities - and even the maturity - of someone who is 10 years older than him. His struggles bring him down, but also help him grow.

"It was also important to me to present bulimia in all its complexity," Friedman said. "My research showed eating disorders aren't about food, but about control. I needed to create a sadly familiar world of modern teenage pressures, in which competitiveness, stress, the need for approval from others, and the pursuit of unattainable perfection can wreak total, tragic havoc on a seventeen-year-old's body and soul, in ways that last a lifetime."

Friedman credits me for being an inspiration for the book. Prior to 2004, we hadn't seen each other in nearly two decades, but a coffee-shop get-together and reminiscing led to stories of my own struggles with eating disorders that began in college.

As I told her the stories, I could see her connecting in a way that displayed a combination of humility, empathy and sympathy - a rare trait for anybody in a society that's too busy to communicate in ways that are more complex than a one-sentence e-mail.

Robin, in fact, is on a short list of people in, say, the history of my life who, I believe, have connected with me on an emotionally deep level. She has a sincerity - as well as a raw and honest, but affecting laugh - that can put the most unrefined person at ease.

Perhaps that's why I'm not surprised that she, through her writing, was able to make something out of a life that was seemingly "nothing."