5 minute read
HORSE by Geraldine Brooks
horse
why had Leland called the night before? Visits to Mom and to Tammy, Dad’s coarse, chain-smoking wife, produce few answers, but the police offer a more complete picture of the murder scene as well as the speculation that Leland, who ran a salvage yard in rural Flint Creek, may have had a side hustle as a gun dealer. When Hudson inherits Miller’s Pull-aPart, he decides that his current dead-end situation makes it worth a try to run it himself, especially since Leland’s old pal Charlie is there to shepherd him. Hudson’s smoothly flowing first-person narrative allows the reader to explore a hardscrabble new world full of sleazy characters in tandem with him. The appeal of Blackburn’s debut novel rests mostly on the Everyman credentials of its two-fisted hero as he navigates the hard knocks life has thrown his way. Mystery fans may be disappointed, though, that the criminal aspects of his story simmer slowly and come to fruition only gradually. A last-minute subplot involving feisty Lucy Reyes provides a welcome jolt of adrenaline and hints at further adventures for Hudson.
An engaging tale of redemption wrapped in a gritty crime yarn.
HORSE
Brooks, Geraldine Viking (416 pp.) $28.00 | June 14, 2022 978-0-39-956296-9
A long-lost painting sets in motion a plot intertwining the odyssey of a famed 19th-century thoroughbred and his trainer with the 21st-century rediscovery of the horse’s portrait. In 2019, Nigerian American Georgetown graduate student Theo plucks a dingy canvas from a neighbor’s trash and gets an assignment from Smithsonian magazine to write about it. That puts him in touch with Jess, the Smithsonian’s “expert in skulls and bones,” who happens to be examining the same horse’s skeleton, which is in the museum’s collection. (Theo and Jess first meet when she sees him unlocking an expensive bike identical to hers and implies he’s trying to steal it—before he points hers out further down the same rack.) The horse is Lexington, “the greatest racing stallion in American turf history,” nurtured and trained from birth by Jarret, an enslaved man who negotiates with this extraordinary horse the treacherous political and racial landscape of Kentucky before and during the Civil War. Brooks, a White writer, risks criticism for appropriation by telling portions of these alternating storylines from Jarret’s and Theo’s points of view in addition to those of Jess and several other White characters. She demonstrates imaginative empathy with both men and provides some sardonic correctives to White cluelessness, as when Theo takes Jess’ clumsy apology—“I was traumatized by my appalling behavior”—and thinks, “Typical….He’d been accused, yet she was traumatized.” Jarret is similarly but much more covertly irked by well-meaning White people patronizing him; Brooks skillfully uses their paired stories to demonstrate how the poison of racism lingers. Contemporary parallels are unmistakable when a Union officer angrily describes his Confederate prisoners as “lost to a narrative untethered to anything he recognized as true.…Their fabulous notions of what evils the Federal government intended for them should their cause fail… was ingrained so deep, beyond the reach of reasonable dialogue or evidence.” The 21st-century chapters’ shocking denouement drives home Brooks’ point that too much remains the same for Black people in America, a grim conclusion only slightly mitigated by a happier ending for Jarret.
Strong storytelling in service of a stinging moral message.
EVERY CLOAK ROLLED IN BLOOD
Burke, James Lee Simon & Schuster (288 pp.) $27.00 | May 24, 2022 978-1-982196-59-2
More or less retired to Montana, SF author Aaron Holland Broussard is faced with a series of crimes evidently committed by someone who’s been dead for more than a hundred years.
Aaron, now 85, has been haunted by the specter of his daughter, Fannie Mae, ever since she succumbed to alcohol, Ambien, and unsuitable men at the relatively tender age of 54. All he wants is to be left in peace on his homestead near the Flathead Reservation. Instead, he sees resentful neighbor John Fenimore Culpepper and his son, Leigh, painting a swastika on his barn door. Soon after he reports the outrage to State Trooper Ruby Spotted Horse and Sister Ginny Stokes, pastor of the New Gospel Tabernacle, stops off to repaint his door, he gets an unwelcome visit from Clayton and Jack Wetzel, a pair of methhead brothers looking for trouble. Clayton’s problems end when he’s found dead near the railroad tracks, and Aaron tries to assuage Jack’s by giving him some work around his place and treating him with unaccustomed decency. But Aaron himself is more and more troubled, not only because two cafe waitresses are killed in separate incidents, but because his visitations from Fannie Mae are supplemented by increasingly painful visions of Maj. Eugene Baker, who ordered a historic massacre of the Native Americans living on the land in 1870. The arrival of murderous meth dealer Jimmie Kale, a familiar Burke type, convinces Aaron that “Baker had the power to commit crimes in the present”—and that present-day America offers him unique avatars and opportunities to do so.
Less mystery than history, less history than prophecy, and all the stronger for it.
THE NOVELIST
Castro, Jordan Soft Skull Press (192 pp.) $24.00 | June 14, 2022 978-1-59376-713-6
Castro’s debut traces the routine of a frustrated writer. Set over the course of a few hours in the life of its unnamed narrator, this novel meticulously tracks the myriad ways a writer can procrastinate or be distracted while working on a book. There are several directions this could have taken, but Castro opts for the most deadpan options, which include the narrator periodically communicating with his friend Li, checking Twitter, and visiting the bathroom. In this relatively short book, a lot of time is spent on bodily functions. “It occurred to me that Li and I had probably been pooping at the same time,” the narrator muses early on; later, several pages are dedicated to the narrator defecating and then wiping his ass. There are some very self-aware moments, as when the narrator alludes to Nicholson Baker’s The Mezzanine or waxes poetic about bananas, a favorite food of the title character in Samuel Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape. And while the mundane elements of the book can at times be overwhelming, there are moments that feel genuinely clever—for instance, for all the metafictional games, there’s also a sharp break from them in that Jordan Castro exists as a distinct character within the novel’s universe. “It was wasteful enough getting sucked into Twitter by the vacuous, mind-deteriorating tweets of the people I followed, but it would be even more time consuming if I were to follow Jordan Castro,” the narrator thinks. The novel opens up in its second half, with the narrator reflecting on his sobriety, but it can be frustrating getting there.
