Holding Up The Universe

Similar to the theme of seeing, establishing one’s identity is a common theme in young-adult literature. In this stage of mental and social development, teenagers must negotiate their own identities as they encounter various demands placed on them, both externally (e.g., by their coursework, extracurricular activities, and home lives) and internally (e.g., by peer pressure, society, emerging sexuality, and career/education goals). In short, it is an immensely stressful period but an important one, and so young-adult literature often investigates this process. On the one hand, the novel asks readers to define for themselves the concept of “identity”: what do they consider to be part of someone’s identity—what are their “identifiers” for their peers and for themselves? How can one become secure in one’s identity, and is it even possible to become completely secure in one’s identity? After all, even Libby, who seems comfortable with herself from the beginning of the novel, has moments in which she doubts herself, such as when she second-guesses trying out for the Damsels. As Libby grows and changes throughout the story, readers can see the way her identity also shifts and solidifies. Ultimately, Niven argues that identity is never permanent and that if one wants to make a change, the option is always there.

On the other hand, the novel also raises another issue commonly faced by its primary audience: the demand to have multiple identities. During the ride home from Kam’s party, Jack and Libby discuss this issue in depth; Jack mentions the football player Herschel Walker, who compared his dissociative identity disorder (in which a person has multiple personalities) to mixing up the different “hats” that people wear for different occasions (489). The various pressures of adolescence force many teenagers to wear an unmanageable number of hats, to be able to fulfill an unmanageable number of roles, and this can cause an overload of mental, social, and emotional stress. Part of growing up means coming to terms with having different identities, such as parent, coworker, and friend. But it also means learning how to juggle those while still staying true to the core of one’s essential self. Niven argues that this is not a process that a person has to endure alone, and she believes that close interpersonal relationships—like Jack and Libby’s—are critical to figuring out how to wear different hats. 

The most obvious way in which the theme of weight presents itself in the novel is through Libby’s physical weight, which continuously plays a role in both Jack’sand Libby’s personal development. However, weight manifests in more symbolic ways, as well. For example, the title of the novel, Holding Up the Universe, is an allusionto the Greek myth of Atlas. According to that myth, after attempting to overthrow the Olympian gods, the titan Atlas was condemned to bear the weight of the heavens on his shoulders. Common representations of Atlas, such as paintings and statues, depict the titan crumpling under the weight of an immense sphere, suggesting that he is barely able to holdup the weight. Similarly, both main characters’ names include references to weight: a video of Libby throwing off Jack in the cafeteria captions her “Mad Lbs” (150), in reference to the abbreviation for pounds, and Jack’s friends often refer to him by the nickname “Mass.”

In addition to the literal role weight plays in the novel’s action, however, weight also serves a more metaphorical purpose. Both main characters bear their own metaphorical weight, and they must figure out how best to manage that weight as they work equally hard to figure out and accept their identities. Jack carries the weight of his prosopagnosia and of keeping it a secret, as well as the weight of all the mental, social, and emotional fallout of the little-understood condition, culminating in his devastating mistake picking up Dusty. Libby bears the weight of her mother’s early death and the emotional damage it caused her years ago and continues to cause her in the present. Even less-prominent characters, such as Caroline Lushamp and Jack’s father, carry their own “weight,” making them not necessarily likable characters but at least sympathetic ones.

However, the novel also argues that there is wisdom in knowing when the weight is too great. Jack continues to keep his prosopagnosia hidden until his mistake with Dusty makes him realize that he needsto get help for it. Similarly, Libby recognizes by the end of the novel that she cannot carry the grief over her mother’s death forever—she has to “set some of it down” (507). This is an important argument for the novel to make, as Niven’s primary audience likely feels the burden of their own kind of “weight.” The pressure of meeting all the various demands of adolescence can be an unbearable weight in itself, and people may view the inability to carry that weight as a sign of weakness or failure. The novel advises readers that it is a sign of maturity rather than weakness to acknowledge when the weight is too heavy to bear alone, that it is okay to get help. As such, it is also okay to be flawed, to be imperfect, to make mistakes—in fact, it is perhaps desirable.

Another central theme of the novel is imperfection or, more specifically, how imperfection relates to identity. Jack spends most of the novel obsessed about his prosopagnosia, which he sees as his biggest flaw. He keeps it hidden from everyone except Libby, constantly associating his the condition with his “fucked-up brain” (50), brokenness (387), and the idea that something is “wrong” with him (179). It is not until he has his revelation about how he sees Libby that Jack comes to embrace his condition as part of what makes him who he is. Until then, Jack continues to base his definition of identity on external identifiers, and he remains determined to make sure others identify him as the popular, funny, likable, attractive Jack Masselin—hence why he continues to hang onto his toxic friendships with characters like Kam, Seth Powell, and Caroline Lushamp. In fact, one reason he is so motivated to build “Shitkicker,” Dusty’s robot, is that he knows he is in total control of its construction: he knows he can build the robot exactly as he wants to and, most importantly, “give it a good brain. A complete, fully functioning, normal, regular brain” (286). Working on the robot is the perfect outlet for Jack’s frustration over his condition because, in contrast to how he feels about establishing his own identity, he feels in complete control over how the robot’s identity turns out.

Jack is not the only imperfect character in the novel. Even the self-assured Libby has moments of weakness in which she doubts her identity, such as when she contemplates all the “what ifs” of trying out for the Damsels, when she writes the messages about herself in the high school restroom, or when she lashes out at Iris. For much of the novel, Libby is also in the process of figuring out who she is and who she wants to be; she, too, finds herself conflicted between her mother’s advice to be herself and her peers’ insistence on conformity and being “normal.” Her character development culminates in her decision to ultimately embrace who she is, which Libby represents with her purple bikini and her treatise to her classmates. In fact, this may be the most important point the novel raises about imperfection: it is inevitable, and perhaps, even desirable. Again, this is a vital lesson for Niven’s readership. Adolescence is rife with pressures to conform, to fit in, to become just another face in the crowd. At the same time, however, teens are often bombarded with advice to “be yourself” and to stand out among their peers. This tension makes it even harder to navigate one’s identity atan age which is already marked by the stress of impending adulthood. In not just drawing attention to the inevitability of imperfection but perhaps, even glorifying imperfection, Niven invites readers to consider and appreciate their own imperfections as parts of their identities.