After taking a few months away from reading about the 1999 Columbine Massacre, I decided to indulge again by reading No Easy Answers. Brooks Brown, or the Brown family in general, had a strong link to the Klebolds and a somewhat unpleasant familiarity with the Harrises. For that reason, Brown’s book (co-authored by Rob Merritt, who includes some factual asides and context) felt like an important thing to read, especially as it focuses on his personal account of events before Columbine and for three years after 20 April 1999.
I enjoyed the accessibility of this book the most. It has a slightly laid-back narration and straightforward divide of Brooks’ world pre- and post-Columbine, making it easy for readers to digest both the preamble and aftermath of this tragedy, up to around April 2002. However, it is important to remember that everything is through the eyes of Brooks Brown—it is not entirely about two dead perpetrators, but rather the life of someone who interacted with them. In essence, its somewhat autobiographical and not stuffed to the brim with the information more morbid readers would be after.
The former portion of the book, the pre-Columbine era, allows Brooks to provide a personal insight into his own life and childhood, and what he can of the would be shooters. In particular, there is much more mention of what Dylan Klebold was like as a young boy. He was shy, but not jaded; not angry with school, nor fearful of others.
This relates to the fascinating and early on demonstration that nurture began to override the kids’ nature. By second grade onwards, Brown and Klebold quickly came to understand the unfairness of their peers and authority, later cemented by their entry into CHIPS programme for gifted kids. Some children had it easy and got in through nepotism, and most of the CHIPS kids had a peculiar resentment and desire to sabotage one another in order to appear better, smarter, the best of the programme. For readers, this creates a dog-eat-dog scene, and glimpses into the socially imbalanced world that Littleton kids might have grown up in, unbeknownst to their parents.
Although readers of the book are ultimately interested in Columbine—or rather, Klebold and Harris—it is interesting and uniquely separate when Brown’s life splinters off in its own direction. Now disenchanted, he had changed schools and dropped out of the CHIPS programme, whilst Klebold had remained at their original school to suffer in what Brown presumes to be a desire to impress (or not let down) his proud parents. Even though Brown, Klebold, and Harris would all attend the same middle school for years after, Brooks rarely saw Dylan around and had started forming a more separate life from his childhood friend.
For the most part, this meant Brooks was largely unaware of the events of Dylan’s life, or what he was being put through, or even the changes he had underwent as a person. By late 1995, when all three boys entered the newly renovated Columbine, Klebold and Harris had formed a friendship, and that was how Brooks became affiliated with Eric.
My rehashing of events aside, Brooks pre-Columbine story is valuable because it gives a detached glimpse into not only how the killers united, but also the emotions and fears of young teens now walking into high school. He goes into much more detail about Columbine High’s culture, the unfairness shown towards the outcasts and loners of the school, and expresses how bullying was a school-wide problem. Naturally, the spindly Klebold and scrawny Harris duo were ripe for targeting, and Brown makes their hatred tangible, even if their actions were inexcusable.
The post-Columbine portion is commendable, if not unfortunate, in the world of chaos, panic, and depression Brown found himself in. Aside from being affiliated with the shooters and being labelled a suspect despite having no involvement, Brown’s social life effectively disintegrated and few people from his school life wanted anything to do with him. He was also consumed with grief, both at losing the idea of who his friends were, alongside other victims who he had a fondness for or familiarity with.
I feel that such stories are overlooked, and that this is just one of the many ways that one life and existence within society was changed by the massacre at Columbine High. I reckon every person could write a publication on how every one of their lives had changed drastically following that fateful April afternoon.
Touchingly, and to paint a picture of how strenuous life post-Columbine was, Brown also details the many conferences, trips, appearances, and legal pitfalls he and others became part of. Some were out of his control, others were things he wanted to involve himself in, hoping to raise awareness and reduce the chance of copycat attacks. There was also he and his family’s desire to expose the failings of the police force and the cover ups taking place. In their own right, these sub-stories of Brown’s life are entertaining as a reader and rather heartbreaking on a empathetic level.
Disappointingly, I do feel Brown opted to leave out a lot of interactions and memories of Klebold and Harris, and he alludes to how these good memories are forever stained, knowingly indicating that he is keeping many from being public knowledge. As the author of the work, and someone personally shook up and deeply affected by Columbine, it is obviously his choice to withhold information that he would prefer to be private. Still, I think there was a better opportunity to learn about the shooters, their personalities, and how they interacted with friends they would one day endanger the lives of. In 2002, though, Columbine’s wounds were still raw and fresh, so perhaps Brown wanted to avoid saying too much for fear of gossip pedalling or opening himself up any further harassment or suspected involvement.
Aside from that complaint, my only other criticism is that the book does feel a tad naive, and reeks of being written by a young author who has never handled a professional publication. There is a flowing of angst through some elements of the narration, and strange repeated references to the band Insane Clown Posse, as if Brooks wanted to catch their attention or promote them. It’s fanboy-ish, to the say the least, and undermines the many moments where he stays on topic and does demonstrate strong intellect, alongside good emotional understanding.
Overall, this fusion of autobiography and memoir remains valuable and provided new information and insights upon its publication in 2002. It is clear that Brown did not hold the same views as his peers or Columbine’s critics would. He was a teen who could empathise and directly see what outcasts like Harris and Klebold were going through. Indeed, he was one who felt equally jaded and distrusting of the school system, and disliked the shifting of blame towards video games, music, or violent films instead of the root causes like bullying, failing systems, and flimsy gun control.
Unlike those who claimed Doom or Duke Nukem was the reason for Columbine, Brooks simply understands that they were outlets for two angry boys, conceding that they may have inspired the naive teens in some very out-of-touch-with-reality ways. In general, his book demonstrates the hostility that the school environment, and exists as a young man’s outlet as he attempted to raise awareness. Brown’s publication, as suggested by its title, tries to use the perspective of one person to assist in the piecing together of the Columbine puzzle. He makes it clear that he wants to understand why, rather than how, his friends went on a killing spree.
No Easy Answers is therefore a solid, worthwhile read for those interested in Columbine. It is not the most relevant or informative writing on the subject, and I think some tunnel-visioned readers would disregard the whole post-Columbine portion for its lack of insight into a time when the shooters were still alive. Despite its rough edges and potential to divulge more information and memories of Brown’s, this book was an entertaining read that I finished within one day of starting it.
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