It is nit rare
that a second novel is just as good as the first one. I can think of countless
occurrences of this happening, so many of which that I will refrain from naming
them. But what is rare is that a second novel is better than the first one, and
with his second novel, The Weight of this World, David Joy has crafted a novel
that is not only better than the first one, but miles ahead in terms of
narrative drive and overall thematic richness. His first novel, Where All Light
Tends to Go, rarely felt like another country noir retread that was following
in the footsteps writers like Larry Brown and Daniel Woodrell. It was not bad
by any means, but in a somewhat bloated genre, it failed to rise out of its
trappings and felt doomed to be lost in the shuffle. That is thankfully not the
case with this book with its similarly dramatic title, but this time, those
comparison to past greats are well earned through buckets of grit, rich
descriptions of the book’s surrounding world and a trio of tragic characters stuck
in past lives filled with equal parts sorrow and fleeting happiness whose lives
are about to change dramatically and not always for the better. While the
comparison to Woodrell in Joy’s first book seemed trite and undeserved, here it
seems rather appropriate, because this might be the saddest book of this
particular genre since The Death of Sweet Mister. It begins with a brutal
prologue where Aiden McCall witnesses the murder suicide of his mother and
father. It is through this tragedy that he meets Thad Broom and his aging
beauty of a mother April. It establishes Aiden’s need for a family and how this
need is never really met. Fast forward to their twenties, and the two boys are
barley living after the housing crash and make a living robbing foreclosed houses
of their copper wiring. It is not until a stash of drug fall into their lap in
a scene of slapstick violence do they go down the dark path the book takes the
reader. This is a very atypical book in this genre, and every step of the way
Joy subverts expectations every step of the way, especially in the book’s final
earth shattering 100 pages, where in a moment of depravity the two boys part
ways. But to me the true hero of this book is April, who’s lived a hard life
and just wants a little bit of happiness. Joy digs deep into her backstory
despite getting only a few chapters, but it paints a sad picture of her
underlying animosity toward Thad and casts a grim light on the penultimate
scene of the book, which is rendered with profound sadness. And when it ends,
with Joy having once again subverted my expectations, it ends on a sad note as
a character fails to learn a lesson and resigns himself to a living damnation.
This is powerful stuff, and Joy never shies away from the humanity of his
characters, and while this is a sad story, it is a memorable and engaging one.
Rating: 5/5
No comments:
Post a Comment