That Was Then, This Is Now

That was why I wrote That Was Then, This Is Now. I wanted to go out.

Years later that I realized I had been writing about a friendship I had had. And not until I read a quote from John Updike that said, "Growth is betrayal," did I know what it was about.

The difference in the years between sixteen and twenty are almost as great as the difference in the years between eleven and sixteen. You learn things. Sometimes hard things. You learn that the so-called right thing is sometimes not the right thing. You learn there will be roads to choose, some you never believed you would travel.

You learn that there will be change. You can fight it as much as you want, or learn to deal with it, but there will be change.

What you thought will not be the same as what you will think.

I have had readers write me saying, "After reading That Was Then, I threw it against

the wall."

When I hear that, I say, "Good, you got it."

The Outsiders made you feel. That Was Then, This Is Now will make you think.

--S. E. Hinton, November 2007

P. S. I got my contracts for The Outsiders on the day I graduated from high school. I spent the whole ceremony thinking, This is nothing, I sold my book.

I received my contracts for That Was Then on my wedding day. I just looked at them thinking, That's nothing, I'm getting married!

THAT WAS THEN, THIS IS NOW

Discussion Guide

1. Freedom is a big theme throughout the book. Many of the characters run around, seemingly without any parental supervision. Mark reminisces about the summer he and Bryon did not come home for weeks. M&M gets involved with a group of hippies who promote the idea of free love. What is your definition of freedom? Do you think that the characters in the book are truly free? What are the limitations and drawbacks to their freedom?

2. Another theme of the book is young versus the old. In chapter 7, Mark asks Bryon, "Nothing bad happens to you when you're a kid. Or haven't you realized that?" Agree or disagree? Who do you think has the advantage, adults or kids?

3. Mark and Bryon live in a tough world full of poverty, gang fights, war, and broken homes. Mark and Bryon represent two different ways of looking at the world and dealing with problems. How does each boy view things? Compare and contrast. Which way do you think is better?

4. Discuss the split that happens between Bryon and Mark. Do you think it was inevitable? Do you think they will ever reconcile? Have you ever had a falling-out with a friend? What were the circumstances? Were you able to mend the rift in your relationship? Why or why not?

5. Do you think Mark is a tragic character, doomed from the beginning? Think about his backstory and how all his life experiences have shaped him and his ideas. Do you think there is hope for him? What do you see happening to him after he is released from jail?

6. Angela and Cathy are the two main female characters in this novel. Compare and contrast the two girls and their families. Do you think their family and home environment made a difference in the way these two girls turned out? How do you think your family has affected the way you are?

7. Adults often say that kids go through "stages." Cathy retaliates to such a comment by saying: "It's not just a stage! You can't say, 'This is just a stage,' when it's important to people what they're feeling. Maybe he will outgrow it someday, but right now it's important." Cathy believes in the importance of the moment. Also, in an earlier part of the book, Mark says he gets impulses that he just has to act on. What is your opinion? Do you think it is important to feel and act in the heat of the moment? Or do you prefer to wait things out? Do you think acting impulsively is a sign of maturity or immaturity?

8. Mark believes that the law isn't always right and so he lives according to his own rules: "Mark had absolutely no concept of what was right and what was wrong; he didn't obey any laws, because he couldn't see that there were any. Laws, right and wrong, they didn't matter to Mark, because they were just words." How does that work out for him? What do you think about laws? Are they necessary or not?

9. That Was Then, This Is Now is essentially a coming-of-age story. How do you think Mark and Bryon mature? What were they like at the beginning and how do their characters change by the end?

10. Think about change. The title of the book is "that was then, this is now." How appropriate is the title of the book? Think about your own life. How does change affect people? Do you think change is necessary in life? How do you react to change?

Turn the page to read a selection from

The Outsiders

Chapter 1

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. I was wishing I looked like Paul Newman--he looks tough and I don't--but I guess my own looks aren't so bad. I have light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-gray eyes. I wish they were more gray, because I hate most guys that have green eyes, but I have to be content with what I have. My hair is longer than a lot of boys wear theirs, squared off in back and long at the front and sides, but I am a greaser and most of my neighborhood rarely bothers to get a haircut. Besides, I look better with long hair.

I had a long walk home and no company, but I usually lone it anyway, for no reason except that I like to watch movies undisturbed so I can get into them and live them with the actors. When I see a movie with someone it's kind of uncomfortable, like having someone read your book over your shoulder. I'm different that way. I mean, my second-oldest brother, Soda, who is sixteen-going-on-seventeen, never cracks a book at all, and my oldest brother, Darrel, who we call Darry, works too long and hard to be interested in a story or drawing a picture, so I'm not like them. And nobody in our gang digs movies and books the way I do. For a while there, I thought I was the only person in the world that did. So I loned it.

Soda tries to understand, at least, which is more than Darry does. But then, Soda is different from anybody; he understands everything, almost. Like he's never hollering at me all the time the way Darry is, or treating me as if I was six instead of fourteen. I love Soda more than I've ever loved anyone, even Mom and Dad. He's always happy-go-lucky and grinning, while Darry's hard and firm and rarely grins at all. But then, Darry's gone through a lot in his twenty years, grown up too fast. Sodapop'll never grow up at all. I don't know which way's the best. I'll find out one of these days.

Anyway, I went on walking home, thinking about the movie, and then suddenly wishing I had some company. Greasers can't walk alone too much or they'll get jumped, or someone will come by and scream "Greaser!" at them, which doesn't make you feel too hot, if you know what I mean. We get jumped by the Socs. I'm not sure how you spell it, but it's the abbreviation for the Socials, the jet set, the West-side rich kids. It's like the term "greaser," which is used to class all us boys on the East Side.

We're poorer than the Socs and the middle class. I reckon we're wilder, too. Not like the Socs, who jump greasers and wreck houses and throw beer blasts for kicks, and get editorials in the paper for being a public disgrace one day and an asset to society the next. Greasers are almost like hoods; we steal things and drive old souped-up cars and hold up gas stations and have a gang fight once in a while. I don't mean I do things like that. Darry would kill me if I got into trouble with the police. Since Mom and Dad were killed in an auto wreck, the three of us get to stay together only as long as we behave. So Soda and I stay out of trouble as much as we can, and we're careful not to get caught when we can't. I only mean that most greasers do things like that, just like we wear our hair long and dress in blue jeans and T-shirts, or leave our shirttails out and wear leather jackets and tennis shoes or boots. I'm not saying that either Socs or greasers are better; that's just the way things are.

I could have waited to go to the movies until Darry or Sodapop got off work. They would have gone with me, or driven me there, or walked along, although Soda just can't sit still long enough to enjoy a movie and they bore Darry to death. Darry thinks his life is enough without inspecting other people's. Or I could have gotten one of the gang to come along, one of the four boys Darry and Soda and I have grown up with and consider family. We're almost as close as brothers; when you grow up in a tight-knit neighborhood like ours you get to know each other real well. If I had thought about it, I could have called Darry and he would have come by on his way home and picked me up, or Two-Bit Mathews--one of our gang--would have come to get me in his car if I had asked him, but sometimes I just don't use my head. It drives my brother Darry nuts when I do stuff like that, 'cause I'm supposed to be smart; I make good grades and have a high IQ and everything, but I don't use my head. Besides, I like walking.

I about decided I didn't like it so much, though, when I spotted that red Corvair trailing me. I was almost two blocks from home then, so I started walking a little faster. I had never been jumped, but I h

ad seen Johnny after four Socs got hold of him, and it wasn't pretty. Johnny was scared of his own shadow after that. Johnny was sixteen then.

I knew it wasn't any use though--the fast walking, I mean--even before the Corvair pulled up beside me and five Socs got out. I got pretty scared--I'm kind of small for fourteen even though I have a good build, and those guys were bigger than me. I automatically hitched my thumbs in my jeans and slouched, wondering if I could get away if I made a break for it. I remembered Johnny--his face all cut up and bruised, and I remembered how he had cried when we found him, half-conscious, in the corner lot. Johnny had it awful rough at home--it took a lot to make him cry.

I was sweating something fierce, although I was cold. I could feel my palms getting clammy and the perspiration running down my back. I get like that when I'm real scared. I glanced around for a pop bottle or a stick or something--Steve Randle, Soda's best buddy, had once held off four guys with a busted pop bottle--but there was nothing. So I stood there like a bump on a log while they surrounded me. I don't use my head. They walked around slowly, silently, smiling.

"Hey, grease," one said in an over-friendly voice. "We're gonna do you a favor, greaser. We're gonna cut all that long greasy hair off."

He had on a madras shirt. I can still see it. Blue madras. One of them laughed, then cussed me out in a low voice. I couldn't think of anything to say. There just isn't a whole lot you can say while waiting to get mugged, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Need a haircut, greaser?" The medium-sized blond pulled a knife out of his back pocket and flipped the blade open.

I finally thought of something to say. "No." I was backing up, away from that knife. Of course I backed right into one of them. They had me down in a second. They had my arms and legs pinned down and one of them was sitting on my chest with his knees on my elbows, and if you don't think that hurts, you're crazy. I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything. I was scared so bad I was wishing I would. I fought to get loose, and almost did for a second; then they tightened up on me and the one on my chest slugged me a couple of times. So I lay still, swearing at them between gasps. A blade was held against my throat.