The Probability of Miracles happens, as many YA novels, in that critical summer between high school graduation and leaving the nest for college. Kids cling to the warmth of home and familiar friends, yet they yearn to break free.
Campbell Cooper sees a future for herself. After all, Harvard awaits in the fall.
Life becomes iffy when her oncologist tells Cam that her relentless enemy— neuroblastoma—has advanced to the point that only a miracle can save her life. Unfortunately, Cam Cooper doesn’t believe in miracles.
Despondent and angry, Cam tops off a bucket list of self-abhorrent activities with, “Lose my virginity at a keg party.” It’s not a matter of love, intimacy, or even passion. Cam just feels “lousy with virginity.” Besides, her best friend, a fellow neuroblastoma patient, is doing the same thing for the same reason. No pressure, right? She thinks that her life will be complete if she finds a lover before she dies.
Sometime in the past, Cam’s family was Catholic. What remains is a distorted view of Catholic theology. For instance, on page one, Cam not only denies the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, but she thinks that it refers to the conception of Jesus, not Mary, the mother of Jesus. This is a common mistake among the theologically challenged.
By page two, Cam says, “The Virgin Mary probably just got herself knocked up like 20 percent of the teenage girls in Florida.” She seems to like Jesus but doesn’t mind insulting his mother. Later Cam says that Mary blamed her pregnancy on God so she wouldn’t have to admit how it happened. God becomes a convenient scapegoat.
At this point, many Catholics might commit Cam and The Probability of Miracles to the trash or ask for a refund. I kept reading because Cam is the archetype for the postmodern mindset in YA literature and life, and therefore worthy of study as an example of the way many fictional and real kids and adults think, act and develop values. What she treasures as her freedom, objective reality, and absolute truth handicaps her ability to deal with her waning health and spiritual prospects.
Eckhart Tolle, Mark Twain, George Bernard Shaw and others have said, “Man created God in his own image.” People today often find it easier to believe in ghosts, fairies, and the zombie apocalypse than in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. While sculpting more convenient gods, the idol makers draw a blank when it comes to facing the end of life dilemma. In Cam’s case, the dilemma comes too soon in her life for her to fully consider her options.
Cam’s mother and her boyfriend work at Epcot. After consulting a spiritualist, a medicine woman, and a distance healer, Mom and Cam turn to the “Disney-like magic” contained in a special town—Promise, Maine—where they hope to find a cure.
Promise is different. Locating it requires a special approach, not unlike the invisible Platform 9¾ at King’s Cross Station needed to catch the Hogwarts Express. It boasts of unique vegetation, and the sun rises and sets outside Cam’s only bedroom window. No, the house does not rotate.
Faced with uncertainty, Cam grasps at straws as her body seems to take its final plunge. The only apparent magic in Cam’s life is an affair with Promise’s hometown hero.
Is this the depth of life’s meaning, or is there so much more than fleeting pleasure?
Is it worth the risk of believing that complete fulfillment exists for those who give faith, hope, and charity a chance?
Sadly, Cam reminds me of a famous tombstone inscription:
“An atheist lies below.
All dressed up,
With nowhere to go.”