Recently, I made my friend from the Philadelphia are read The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton for the first time. As she was sending me updates about the parts that made her laugh, made her want to cry, made her swoon, I started getting a deep envy for her experiencing it for the first time. Growing up in Tulsa, Oklahomaâthe novelâs setting and Suzy Hintonâs hometownâThe Outsiders has been plastered across my whole life. âStay Goldâ is basically our slogan. It is a story that became immediately important to who I am as a person when we read it in seventh grade reading class. I had not read the novel since then, though, despite having seen the movie dozens of times. So I decided it was time for a re-read. Where my friend took a slow approach to the novel, reading it over the course of a month or so, I devoured it in around two days, reading the last 140 pages of the 180 novel last night in a single sitting. As soon as I started reading Ponyboyâs story of his childhood and his friends-turned-family, it consumed my every waking thought. I welled up multiple times, a rather difficult feat for me, and was delighted to find I loved it even more than that first time I read it. What I wasnât expected to experience while reading it, however, was the deep sense of homesickness it brought me. I havenât lived in Tulsa since I was eighteen years old, though throughout my undergrad I was only four hours away and returned home often. Now, I live in Philadelphia, which is either a 20-hour car ride or a 5â6-hour flight plus a layover. I was alone during Christmas, a fact that didnât seem to bother me much as I donât really enjoy the holiday. But, reading about the familiar yet unnamedâor pseudonymized, at leastâstreets of Tulsa, through Ponyboyâs narration with Suzyâs scarily accurate depiction of the Okie accent, I felt an undeniable urge to be back there. To drive down the roads I know by heart, to hang out in Walmart parking lots with my friends like we did as teenagers, to eat at Braumâs, to smile and wave at strangers at the street without being glared at. Iâm glad I moved away, but Tulsa will always be important to me, and re-reading The Outsiders proved to me just how much it informs my life today.
All this rambling is to say, if you have never read The Outsiders, or havenât read it since seventh grade like I hadnât, itâs a great time to do so. Even if youâve never heard of Tulsa, the found family and commentary on class disparity through the eyes of a too-roughened kid will reach your heart in ways you wonât suspect.
