CRUSH: Writers Reflect on Love, Longing, and the Lasting
Power of Their First Celebrity Crush
By Cathy Alter and Dave Singleton, editors
Publisher: Harper Collins
Release Date: April 5, 2016
In their introduction to this collection of essays about
celebrity crushes, Alter and Singleton claim that “Celebrity crushes change and mold us into the
people we will become, shaping our ideals, fueling our fantasies, aiding and
abetting our conquests, and leading us to (or away from) the people we meet and
fall in love with decades later.” The thirty-eight essays that follow this
claim offer persuasive proof of its validity. The authors who share their
memories on the subject are a diverse group in terms of age, race, sexual
orientation, level of fame, and experience, but they share a certain nostalgic
point of view as they recount—some humorously and some poignantly—their first
celebrity crushes. The crushes range from movie stars, rock stars, and teen idols
to fictional characters from novels and television and animated figures.
Perhaps more surprisingly, they also range from the predictable (Donny Osmond,
David Cassidy, and Paul Newman) to the unexpected (Annie Potts, Kareem
Abdul-Jabbar, and River Phoenix).
The essays I
found most interesting include Jodi Picoult’s account of running away to live
with Donny Osmond, a pillowcase bearing her crush’s image in her six-year-old
hand; two essays, one by by Roxanna Gay and the other by Joanna Rakoff, about
Laura Ingalls Wilder’s hero, Almanzo Wilder; James Franco’s consideration,
complete with poems, of the influence of River Phoenix; and Yesha Callahan’s
“My Own Private Danny Zuko,” which is as much about racism and its effects on
the young as it is about a teen’s crush on Danny Zuko/John Travolta. Callahan’s
is just one of the essays in which character and actor meld in the crushee’s
consciousness.
I also found it
interesting that several of the women essayists acknowledge their mother’s
supporting role in the course of the crush. On a personal note, I enjoyed
Picoult’s mention of her mother’s crush on Paul Anka, and with each mention of
Donny Osmond’s “Puppy Love,” I longed for a footnote acknowledging that Anka,
who wrote the song, was melting tween and teen hearts with his hit more than a
decade before the Osmond version. The tributes to Almanzo made me think of made
me think of my friend Fran (aka MsHellion), another major Almanzo fan, and of
my own first literary crush, Gilbert Blythe in Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne
Shirley books.
The success of
this book lies in large part with its appeal to an experience shared by its
readers. Who among us cannot recall that first celebrity crush? I’m confident
that I’m not the only reader for whom Julia Pierpont’s observation “First comes
crush, then comes commerce” will call forth recollections of a lunchbox, a tee
shirt, or a poster. For me, it was an illuminated, full-color framed photograph
and nightlight that was included with Paul
Anka Sings for Young Lovers. The collection becomes more than nostalgic
entertainment with such astute comments as Picoult’s statement “I knew nothing
about who the object of my affection was in his real life. He was, purely and
simply, what I needed him to be in mine”
or Michelle Brafman’s description of her long-term connection with Harry Chapin
and his music as not a romantic crush but rather “one of the soul.”
This is not the
usual TRD book review, but even though Crush is not romance or women’s
fiction—or even fiction at all—it is a book I think many of you will enjoy
immensely. I also suspect that I will not be alone in its awakening a longing
for a romance author version. I’m sure Teresa Medeiros could write a great
essay on her Donny Osmond crush.
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