Christine Heppermann stands out in a crowd. It might be her hair—a vibrant red, somewhere between hot sauce and maraschino. Or the hot-pink T-shirt that says keep it surreal. Or the peregrine falcon tattooed on her arm, or the insouciant smile. But as soon as you meet her, you think, Here comes a jolt of caffeine.
Readers who pick up her stunning new verse novel Ask Me How I Got Here (Greenwillow Books, 2016) will feel the same buzz. A longtime reviewer of young-adult books for the Chicago Tribune, Horn Book, and others, Heppermann's first book was the nonfiction Urban Chickens (HMH, 2012), followed by the breakout success Poisoned Apples: Poems for You, My Pretty (Greenwillow, 2014). A razor-sharp reenvisioning of fairy-tale tropes through the warped lens of contemporary beauty culture, it was a Best Book selection by Kirkus Reviews and Publishers Weekly, garnering critical raves.
Heppermann just picked up her two teenage daughters from Poughkeepsie Day School. Sliding into a seat at New Paltz's Village Tea Room, she orders a Corsendonk Pale Ale, a vegetable hummus platter, and seasoned popcorn. She's clear-eyed and frank, discussing such personal issues as Catholicism, abortion, and eating disorders without hesitation; there's no off-the-record. It's totally badass.
Born in Omaha, Nebraska, Heppermann grew up in a community so thoroughly Catholic that she found her Methodist neighbors exotic. She and her two younger siblings went to Catholic schools, including Marian High School, an all-girls prep school known for academic and athletic excellence. Heppermann ran the 400- and 800-yard dash and the two-mile relay; she always ran the first leg to help put her team out in front.
Her interest in writing blossomed when one of her teachers brought contemporary poetry (Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, Adrienne Rich) and James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man into the classroom. "She kind of opened a space in this narrow Catholic environment," Heppermann recalls. "I was very intense about my poetry."
At the same time, she was starting to question church dogma, and lying to her devout parents. "I'd tell them, 'I'm going to mass with my friends' and we'd go to Burger King—we'd stop and pick up church programs on the way home." There were other outings: friends' brothers' bands, punk concerts in bowling alleys, mosh pits.
"I was pretending to be a good girl, and going to parties. I lied and lied badly. I was always getting caught. There was a lot of drama and 'You will be grounded!' My girls don't know the concept of grounded."
At 17, Heppermann got pregnant and had an abortion. She has no regrets about this choice, but does regret the subterfuge and self-imposed shame that ensued. This experience forms the emotional core of Ask Me How I Got Here. Its poems have the ring of unvarnished truth: "I'd give anything / for blood / on this / bone-white pad."
Most of the poems are narrated by Minneapolis teenager Addie—like the author, an aspiring poet and track star at a Catholic high school. Some, in a contrasting font, are written by Addie, many about the Virgin Mary. Addie learns early on that she's pregnant, and though she agonizes about telling her parents, they're supportive, if privately tearful.
"I wanted to show there's more than one way for Catholic parents to respond," says Heppermann, whose parents still don't know about her abortion three decades ago. Telling them at the time was "out of the question," so she faked sick to stay home from school; her boyfriend drove over to pick her up. When this cover story was blown by a neighbor who saw them together, she spun a false confession about helping a friend in trouble. Lies piled upon lies. When Heppermann had to go to track practice a few days later, she slowed down to a walk, saying she had a cramp.
The fictional Addie goes further, quitting the team without telling her parents or boyfriend, hiding out in a coffee shop during practices. One of the book's many pleasures is Heppermann's focus not on the abortion but on its long aftermath, deftly avoiding "a soap opera, capital-T capital-P Teen Pregnancy story." There's no preaching to the converted, just the soul-searching of a smart teen who's been knocked off course and is trying to figure out who she is now. And when Addie slips into a same-sex relationship, it's not because she hates men; it's simply that she's connected with someone who gets her.
Julianna, a former golden girl now sporting "seasick green hair" and "Abercrombie cadaver fit jeans," has dark secrets too. In her company, Addie finally finds the courage to tell her own truths.
Nor is ex-boyfriend Nick a bad guy. He goes to the clinic with Addie, and even if twisting her arm to write lyrics for his band feels more like pressure than compassion, he means well. He's just a bit clueless.
"It's impossible for men to understand from a woman's perspective," Heppermann says. "All the shaming sites point toward the mother who killed her baby. Well, there are two people involved. There's no mention of shaming the man."
She describes the postabortion counseling programs she found in her research. "Some of them advocate building an altar, buying baby clothes, mourning. It's packaged as trying to help you process your grief, but really it's 'Let's just pound in the guilt.'" (The last page of Ask Me How I Got Here lists resources for teens facing unwanted pregnancies, ranging from Planned Parenthood to Catholics For Choice.)
"My parents grew up Catholic and stayed that way," Heppermann says. No longer a churchgoer, she's "still taken with the iconography and ritual of it. I wear Virgin Mary jewelry." She holds up a wrist, displaying a turquoise bracelet with devotional charms.
Though her parents read and loved Poisoned Apples, "I'm a little more nervous about this one. I'm not going to push it on them. I'm waiting for them to come to me on their own and talk about it," she says. "It was a scary thing to write and be honest about."
Scary, but essential. "It really makes me angry to see how women, even people who are pro-choice, can't talk about abortion without regret and stigma. It's a legal choice and you can feel fine about making that choice. It's your right to do it."
In an essay for the website Stacked, Heppermann writes, "Sometimes it feels like our cultural norms have evolved solely to keep everyone, women in particular, isolated, ashamed, and afraid.... I want my books to ask questions and start conversations. Conversations that are complicated, messy, and above all, LOUD, not conducted in fearful whispers. Like mold, shame can be hard to get rid of, but we can't just let it grow."
Ask Me How I Got Here and Poisoned Apples are potent mold removers. They're also laced with cool-teen humor: The frontman of Nick's band writes songs with titles like "Die, Flaming Asswipe, Die," "Helen Keller Stare Down," and "God Eats at Denny's." (Heppermann can't resist adding that the last song title came from her husband's high school garage band—"and I use the term 'band' loosely.")
They moved to the Hudson Valley three years ago, when he became the Culinary Institute of America's librarian; he now works at Yeshiva University. Their younger daughter wrote a novel during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) at age 11; her proud mama got The Trigger published on Amazon, where it's racked up five-star reviews. "My sister works on public radio, and got her on Mike Pesca's podcast 'The Gist,'" Heppermann says, adding drily, "It helps to be connected."
Their older daughter, now 17, excels at music, linguistics, and cross-country running. Six years ago, when the family was living on Michigan's Upper Peninsula, she became sick with anorexia. Though she's regained her health, Heppermann calls this period "beyond excruciating." As with abortion, she hopes speaking openly about eating disorders will help dispel stigma and shame. From "The Never-Ending Story," a poem in Poisoned Apples: "Once there was a girl who longed to be brave / enough to stick her finger down her throat, / to measure herself by the teaspoon, / to shrink to the size of a serving."
Heppermann has another new book coming out in July, the second in the Backyard Witch middle-grade series she writes with Ron Koertge, her former adviser at Hamline University's MFA program. She's also planning a novel inspired by an abandoned train car near the Highland Rail Trail and her childhood fear of demonic possession. "In second grade, my aunt told me about seeing The Exorcist. I was terrified for years. I'd lie awake with my eyes closed, because if I looked in the hallway I knew I'd see the shadow of that priest from the Exorcist poster."
Heppermann's essay for Stacked concludes, "I never want my two daughters to feel, for any reason, as if they should stay in the shadows. I want them to live in a world where they feel free to tell their stories, to reveal who they are, to not have to pretend. Because it can be cold and lonely in the shadows.
Let's step into the sun."
