As a novel that depicts the cruel realities of the high school social world, Nineteen Minutes considers the (often huge) gulf between appearances and reality. Nearly every character in the novel feels pressured to have an outward appearance of happiness, success, and popularity. Yet even for the characters who have the most convincing outward appearance, this belies a much darker reality. The novel’s exploration of this theme is rather bleak, suggesting that the demand to put on a good appearance can’t ever really be escaped. At the same time, it also proposes that it is perhaps a mistake to believe in a true, authentic self lying beneath a person’s fake exterior.
The disparity between appearances and reality is thoroughly explored through the character of Josie Cormier, who manages to gain acceptance in the popular crowd at Sterling High only to discover how incredibly miserable life among these people is. Josie is presented as a kind, thoughtful person who chooses to become friends with the popular kids, who cruelly bully other students, because it will protect her from being bullied herself. She is able to successfully adopt the appearance of a popular girl and fit in among the others, changing the way she dresses and behaves, including by dating a popular boy named Matt Royston. Yet this does not make her happy, in part because the changes to her appearance can’t change the way she actually feels about herself. This is conveyed early in the novel, when she stands in front of the mirror overwhelmed by feelings of self-hatred. In this moment, Josie notices, “what was underneath that raw skin, instead of what had been painted upon it.”
Josie’s new life among the popular kids is supposed to be the pinnacle of social achievement and happiness in high school. However, despite the fact that the popular group is framed as being the most likable and desirable, in reality their lives are characterized by fear, misery, and cruelty. Josie observes that the popular kids don’t actually have friendships with one another, only “alliances.” They are cruel to one another, and lack any genuine trust or affection. Furthermore, while on the surface Josie’s relationship with Matt is framed as an ideal romance, in reality Matt is abusive: he controls Josie, physically hurts her, and coerces her into unwanted sex. The fact that Josie is perceived as having a perfect life doesn’t make the grim reality any better—indeed, the gap between appearances and reality makes her feel even more alienated and alone, to the point that she routinely thinks about committing suicide.
Josie is far from the only character in the novel who suffers from the pressure to have a positive outward appearance, even if this belies an entirely different reality. Her mother, Alex, feels that she must have a pristine public persona due to the fact that she is a judge, and this leads her to exercise tight control over her behaviour: “You don’t stop being a judge just because you step out of the courthouse, [Josie’s] mother used to say. It was why Alex Cormier never drank more than one glass of wine in public; it was why she never yelled or cried.” Meanwhile, Peter pretends to be happier and more successful in school than is actually the case in order to hide the truth from his family that he is isolated, bullied, and considered a loser. In each of these cases—as in Josie’s case—the pressure to don a fake appearance of happiness and success is deeply traumatic.
Yet while the novel is emphatic about the negative consequences of “fake” outward appearances, it also calls into question whether the binary between one’s fake appearance and the true reality is actually that simple. When Peter accuses Josie of being “fake” with the popular kids, Josie replies, “There’s different kinds of real.” While this might just sound like an excuse, Josie says it in the context of Peter’s complaint that she acts differently with the popular kids than she does around him. Josie rightly indicates that Peter might be wrong to assume her behavior around him is necessarily authentic, whereas her behavior around the popular kids is fake. In reality, perhaps they are both “different kinds of real.” Yet while arguing this may help Josie make sense of her own situation, it does not mitigate the confusion created by these different levels of reality. Indeed, when thinking about how Alex can fit in anywhere (like a chameleon), Peter’s mother, Lacy, observes that this can be somewhat unnerving: “It struck Lacy that she didn’t really know what color a chameleon was before it started changing.” All the characters in the novel—and particularly Josie and Alex—shift their outward appearance in order fit in, but the consequence of this is that they lose all sense of any reality lying beneath.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Appearances vs. Reality ThemeTracker
Appearances vs. Reality Quotes in Nineteen Minutes
You don’t stop being a judge just because you step out of the courthouse, her mother used to say. It was why Alex Cormier never drank more than one glass of wine in public; it was why she never yelled or cried. A trial was a stupid word, considering that an attempt was never good enough: you were supposed to toe the line, period. Many of the accomplishments that Josie’s mother was most proud of—Josie’s grades, her looks, her acceptance into the “right” crowd—had not been achieved because Josie wanted them so badly herself, but mostly because she was afraid of falling short of perfect.
Everyone broke up in laughter, as Lacy watched. Alex, she realized, could fit anywhere. Here, or with Lacy’s family at dinner, or in a courtroom, or probably at tea with the queen. She was a chameleon.
It struck Lacy that she didn’t really know what color a chameleon was before it started changing.
How could you change a boy’s bedding every week and feed him breakfast and drive him to the orthodontist and not know him at all?
The town of Sterling would analyze to death what she had done to her son—but what about what she would do for him? It was easy to be proud of the kid who got straight A’s and who made the winning basket—a kid the world already adored. But true character showed when you could find something to love in a child everyone else hated.
Like Peter, Derek Markowitz was a computer whiz. Like Peter, he hadn’t been blessed with muscles or height or, for that matter, any gifts of puberty. He had hair that stuck up in small tufts, as if it had been planted. He wore his shirt tucked into his pants at all times, and he had never been popular.
Unlike Peter, he hadn’t gone to school one day and killed ten people.
Dorian Gray had a portrait that grew old and evil while he remained young and innocent-looking. Maybe the quiet, reserved mother who would testify for her son had a portrait somewhere that was ravaged with guilt, twisted with pain. Maybe the woman in that picture was allowed to cry and scream, to break down, to grab her son’s shoulders and say What have you done?
“Was there ever anything in Peter’s personality that led you to believe he was capable of an act like this?”
“When you look into your baby’s eyes,” Lacy said softly, “you see everything you hope they can be… not everything you wish they won’t become.”
