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“All my life I’d lived out of step and synch with the larger world, forever tottering on borders and fault lines.”

By combining all three books of the John Turner trilogy under one title, author James Sallis creates one of the most unforgettable characters ever created, in a series of stunning, connected novels. However dramatic, skillfully developed, and intelligently written each novel is separately (and one could argue convincingly that each of these is individually a prize-winner deserving of the best of the year award for noir fiction), the idea of reading them all in one package is a no-brainer.

Sallis is a writer of the first order, one of the best contemporary novelists in America today–and I say “novelists,” without adding any limitations, such as “mystery writer,” “thriller writer,” or “southern gothic writer.” Sallis is a writer so good that he should be known by every lover of dark literary fiction in America by now.

Sallis’s novels are bleak, even noir, versions of what he and his characters see as reality. Cypress Grove, the first in the series, introduces Turner, a man who was a soldier, a Memphis cop turned convict, then therapist, who has decided to escape from the pressure cooker of big city police work and go to the boondocks, far from Memphis. When local Sheriff Lonnie Bates, a continuing character in the series, asks for his help solving a murder, Turner reluctantly agrees.

In Cripple Creek, the second novel, he is also drawn into the investigation of local crime when a routine traffic stop uncovers a satchel with two hundred thousand dollars in the car of a speeder. “Goombahs” from Memphis organized crime attack the station house to release a prisoner from jail, and Sheriff Lonnie Bates and his daughter are seriously injured. As acting sheriff, Turner investigates, making some serious enemies.

The concluding novel, Salt River, takes place two years later. Turner, by now, has seen and done it all. Though he has remained in Cripple Creek, his life is dark, sad, and full of the knowledge that unexpected horrors can cripple, if not kill, even the most flickering of one’s personal hopes. As he investigates a car theft involving the son of the sheriff, a murder near a utopian commune in the hills, and the possible kidnapping of the sheriff’s wife, Turner shows us that life is messy, that people’s lives are always unfinished stories, and that all one can do is muddle through, with little expectation that one’s efforts will bear fruit. “There are mountain men or cowboys inside us all, Henry David Thoreau and Clint Eastwood riding double in our bloodstreams and our dreams.”

Spare with details and minimalist in style, Sallis emphasizes characters in these intelligent and compressed novels of ideas and identity. Every word counts here, even when those words are not adding to the plot. Sallis’s lean, mean style reflects both his main character’s personality and that style of noir writing in which events are presented and the reader is left to draw conclusions.

Through flashbacks and flashforwards, he shows Turner in action, a man genuinely kind and empathetic, at the same time that he is violent and filled with bloodlust. Beautifully crafted, carefully written, and stylistically unforgettable, Sallis’s John Turner series creates one of the most fascinating characters in contemporary mystery writing.

ALSO by James Sallis: THE KILLER IS DYING,           DRIVE,       DRIVEN (the sequel to DRIVE),      OTHERS OF MY KIND,     WILLNOT,    SARAH JANE

Photos, in order: The author’s photo is from his website: http://www.jamessallis.com

The Loveless Market is in rural Tennessee, outside Nashville:  http://www.igougo.com

The town center of Bradford, Tennesse, is, perhaps, similar to Cripple Creek:  http://www.anniesolomon.com


Those who are interested in reading about the sociological underpinnings of the current rebellion in Egypt will be interested in a novel which has been the best-selling novel in the Middle East for the past two years.  It is also the basis of a blockbuster film.

Alaa Al-Aswany, the author, has an interview, cited in the Notes to the review, and I’ve included a trailer from the film.  I loved this book.  It explained to me in understandable terms, why the crisis in Egypt today has developed.  Please don’t miss this, if you are interested in reading about the issues that have come to the fore in the past week.

In The Yacoubian Building, Al-Aswany has created a microcosm of all the issues we are seeing now, within a  readable and fascinating novel which no one will forget.  Just click on this link to see the full review, previously posted:  https://marywhipplereviews.com

“The Stray Sod Country…[is about] being lost in what once were reassuring surroundings.  Being intimidated, confused—by the very thing that once made you feel secure.  You feel…entrapped, deceived, tricked and snared by a seemingly beautiful world.  It’s what happens when the unholy gate closes.”

Irish author Patrick McCabe became world famous in 1992 with the publication of The Butcher Boy,  a psychological study of a young schoolboy whose tormented inner world, combined with the extreme cruelty he faces in the outside world, eventually leads to his descent into madness and murder.  Winner of the Irish Times Best Novel of the Year Award for that novel, McCabe followed up his success with The Dead School (1995), a novel about two teachers, also facing extreme real world stresses, both of whom also waste their lives in madness or near-madness.  Other novels, such as Call Me the Breeze (2003) and Winterwood (2006) continue McCabe’s fascination with the emotional decline of main characters, leading to McCabe’s identification as the King of “Bog Gothic”—novels set in rural Ireland with Gothic twists and turns—which he sometimes embellishes with black humor.

While no one will ever say that this novel by McCabe is anything but dark, he has a much broader canvas here, delving into the life of an entire community located on the border between Ireland and Northern Ireland.  McCabe himself grew up (and still lives) in Clones, a town also on the border, and his vibrant descriptions of Cullymore in this novel obviously owe much to life as he has known it in Clones.  An odd novel in some ways, Stray Sod Country chooses not to focus on a single main character, instead giving portraits of many people from the community as they deal with changes in society from 1958, when Laika the Russian space dog captured the imaginations of the townsfolk, through the turbulent 1970s, and up to the present.  A mysterious narrator makes his first comments as “I” early in the novel when he creates images of Fr. Patrick Peyton having a torrid romantic encounter with actress Jane Russell, images he then puts into the mind of a rival priest, Fr. Gus Hand, who despises his fellow priest for working and associating with Hollywood stars.

This early comic episode also establishes the feeling of menace which permeates the book, affecting virtually every character, some of whom find their bodies taken over momentarily by a  malevolent outside force which impels them to say and do things that they would never do on their own.  Who the spirit is is not quite clear at the beginning, but he appears to be The Fetch, a kind of devil who, along with Nobodaddy  (from William Blake), has played a role in community folklore and history whenever evil has occurred.  Powerful and always ready to take down residents who appear to be happy in their lives, the spirit is well known to the residents of the community, but they tend to see and know him only in their own lives, not realizing that he has similar effects on others.  They are busy and spend little time contemplating the mysteries in the lives of their friends and neighbors. “[In Stray Sod Country] your neighbors—or who you thought were your neighbors—[reveal] themselves to be the unknown. Which is what they have been all along.”

A  married couple in a “mixed marriage,” one Roman Catholic and one Protestant, lead happy lives for a certain period of time, doing good deeds and caring for a handicapped son.  Then life changes.  A devoted classics teacher in a Catholic school is mysteriously overcome during class and kisses a young boy, something that he has never before even dreamed of doing,  Ostracized by the church and community, he becomes a vengeful pariah promising death and destruction. A possibly innocent man who is thought to have turned in a local IRA member to the RUC is tormented by the community.  The Easter pageant, called “Tenebrae,” meaning “darkness,” which has occupied the community for weeks, has a result so terrible that the author does not even tell the reader what it is till the end of the book. Both Protestants and Catholics alike are faced with troubles, including deaths, whenever the evil spirit is moved to act.

McCabe raises many questions about the nature of good and evil here, but the amount of free will that his characters have is an open question as long as The Fetch or Nobodaddy is around.  McCabe also asks whether blaming a spirit (“the Devil made me do it”) may be related to a lack of self-awareness, whether it reveals a person’s ignorance about the people they think they know, or whether it shows that other community influences, such as the church (both Catholic and Protestant), family values, and traditional community values have outlived the times.  As he brings the novel up to the present, the mysterious evil spirit continues to play a role in the characters’ lives, taking over souls, creating images (often sexual) which either horrify or (more often) electrify the repressed victims, and leading strait-laced community members to say and do what they really want to say and do and not what society has expected of them.  The conflict between Irish tradition and modern sensibilities has rarely been explored in such energetic fashion.

Those who are expecting a novel in which a single main character fights the forces of the unknown will be surprised, and possibly disappointed, in this one, but others will agree wholeheartedly with IrishCentral.com, which calls the book “dazzling and elegiac.”  It is free-wheeling in its construction, bouncing around in its focus and apparent message, but I found it lively, darkly fun to read, and ultimately thought-provoking.  As Philip Womack says so cogently in his review in the [London] Telegraph (Oct. 11, 2010):  “Reading [Stray Sod Country] is a bit like stepping on a sea urchin: you don’t realise the pain until afterwards and then you spend days picking out the spines.”

Photos, in order: The author’s photo is from http://www.swisseduc.ch

The first photo of Clones, the author’s hometown, probably the model for Cullymore, appears on http://www.geograph.ie

A pub in Clones is seen on http://www.sundayworld.com

The last picture of Clones is from http://chooseireland.com


Note: Jane Gardam, OBE, was WINNER of the Whitbread Award for this novel in 1991, her second such award.  In 1999, she was WINNER of the Heywood Hill Literary Prize for her Lifetime Contribution to Literature.

“Joan, I can assure you that [Charles] will never look at another woman.  If he were the type for that—I may as well say it straight out, as I always do—if he were, as would be natural in a healthy man of his age, to turn elsewhere for comfort, he would surely turn to me.  I do tend to captivate men because of my looks.  This is not conceit, but fact.”

Eliza Peabody begins writing to her neighbor Joan, not a close friend, almost immediately after Joan leaves her husband Charles and disappears, leaving behind only a series of addresses around the world where she may be contacted by her family.  Eliza takes it upon herself to write to Joan repeatedly, offering unsolicited advice, observations (unintentionally insulting) about Joan’s husband and children, and comments about her own marriage and beliefs about her role as a woman, which she knows that Joan does not share.  Joan never answers.  Gradually, over the course of more than a year, the letters become longer and more revealing, until Eliza finally reveals herself as a frustrated and mentally disturbed woman who may need hospitalization.  It is only when Eliza hits bottom that she becomes a candidate for rehabilitation and redemption.

Jane Gardam, with her supremely subtle humor, creates in Eliza a character whom no reader will be able to resist.  Thinking of herself as a realist who calls a spade a spade, Eliza has no clue that others regard her as rude, unthinking, and self-centered—someone whose lack of awareness leaves her open to accusations of malice.  Her messages to Joan, filled with dramatic irony, show her to be much less than the “helpful friend” she regards herself to be.

When Henry, her own husband, leaves her, Eliza confides to Joan that Henry is “not really fitted out for marriage,”  and confesses that her love life has been such that she will not miss their relationship.  With Henry gone, she is now free to meet Joan in Dacca, a suggestion to which Joan does not respond.  She receives gifts from Joan, including a pair of flamboyant earrings which resemble tambourines, and Barry, a young man dying in the hospice where Eliza sometimes volunteers, calls her “The Queen of the Tambourine” when she wears them.

As Eliza goes about her daily life, including her hilarious attendance at a local literary group meeting, the author’s ability to create clever satire and wonderful observations about love, marriage, and friendship (and incidentally, the literary world) shines with the candor of one who has little patience with pretension and a person’s lack of self-awareness.  Marriages and their secrets, and “friendships” which are one-sided come under the microscope as Eliza clearly begins to “lose it.”

Gardam is a very funny writer, with a sense of irony that few writers can match. She is subtle and clever in creating Eliza, who is in complete ignorance of what is appropriate and what is not.  Gardam gets great mileage out of what she does not state about Eliza, instead allowing Eliza to reveal her own thinking (or lack of it) through her letters to Joan.  The reader cannot help but recognize Eliza’s downward spiral and see her problems for what they are, long before Eliza herself recognizes how unbalanced she is.  By the time Eliza begins to imagine events which could not possibly be real, most readers will be empathizing with Eliza (as much as one can empathize with a meddlesome and impossibly tactless woman) but will be questioning if anything she has said can be taken as truth.  When Eliza, having hit bottom, has a personal epiphany, she confesses what is real and what is fantasy, giving the reader hope for her eventual recovery.

Emphasizing the absurdity of the repressive suburban lifestyle that Joan has escaped and which Eliza wants to preserve, Jane Gardam creates a leisurely and assured novel about self-awareness, and the opportunities and limitations of marriage, questioning whether one can become a fully-developed personality within the constraints of overly restrictive social expectations.  The liberating role of sex in a healthy relationship, and the role of fantasy, especially as it relates to sex, permeates the novel.

As Eliza comes to new understandings about Joan, her own husband, her family, and herself, the reader acknowledges that while there are many different kinds of love and many different kinds of commitments, that ultimately, one must know oneself to have any kind of happiness at all.   Wry, clever, and thoughtful, this Whitbread Award-winning novel from 1991, recently republished by Europa Editions following the success of Gardam’s Old Filth, should expand her literary reputation on this “side of the pond” and gain Gardam many new, and well deserved, fans.

Photos, in order: The author’s photo appears on http://www.guardian.co.uk

Eliza suggests she meet Joan in Dacca, where she might have visited the Sonargoan ruins, part of the ancient capital of Isa Khan’s kingdom in Bengal.  This photo and others may be seen on http://en.wikipedia.org.

 

ALSO by Jane Gardam:  The Old Filth Trilogy: OLD FILTH, THE MAN WITH THE WOODEN HAT, and LAST FRIENDS.

Separate novels reviewed here: THE PEOPLE ON PRIVILEGE HILL,      GOD ON THE ROCKS,      CRUSOE’S DAUGHTER,      A LONG WAY FROM VERONA      THE FLIGHTS OF THE MAIDENS

Note: This novel was the 2008 WINNER of the prestigious Zerilli-Marimo Prize for Italian fiction, awarded every two years.

“Her whole life she had been told that she was like someone from the land of the moon, [but] it seemed to her that she had finally met someone from her own land, and that was the principal thing in life, which she had never had.”

I must confess that one of the reasons I was attracted to this novel initially was that I had never read a novel written by a Sardinian author before, and I wondered how different this novel might be from other Italian novels.  While it is different from urban Italian novels, it has much in common with novels set in rural Italy, at least those by authors like Carmine Abate, who sets his novels in Calabria, in the toe of Italy.  Both authors focus on families who are from poor communities which have suffered from World War II, and both have as their main characters independent people who are trying to be true to their own values and the values of their communities, while also following their dreams, however simple they may be.

Setting her novel in Cagliari, Sardinia, author Milena Agus creates a story which spans three generations, focusing on women from two families who are joined through marriage.  An unnamed contemporary speaker feels particularly connected to her paternal grandmother, and as the speaker pieces together this woman’s life from what she herself recalls about her and from the family lore which has survived through the memories of the rest of the family, she creates a woman who not only searches earnestly for love but is absolutely determined to experience it in all its splendor, believing that it is “the principal thing in life.”

This grandmother was thirty in 1943, and unmarried, and she had never had a real love.   The local boys had always seemed to be attracted to her initially but were then somehow repelled within a few meetings with her, despite her beauty.  In fact, just before she met the man who would become her husband, she had thrown herself down a well, frustrated and despairing at having missed the love that she so desperately wanted.  She believed, however, that “she wasn’t mad, she was a creature made at a moment when God simply had no wish for the usual mass-produced women and, being in a poetic vein, had created her.”  Her eventual marriage was forced upon her by her father, who feared that her growing reputation of being mad would eliminate all future possibilities of marriage.  This marriage was to an older man, a widower who had lost his family in the Allied bombing.  Neither partner expected anything from the marriage, and she encouraged her new husband to continue to visit the local brothels. When, after seven years and many miscarriages, her doctor advises her to go to a spa for treatment, her life changes.  Exactly nine months after the spa visit, she bears a son—the speaker’s father.  The speaker’s other grandmother, Lia, had a daughter at age eighteen with a local shepherd, who was married, and this daughter becomes the speaker’s mother.

As the speaker recalls the stories of these characters, the narrative swirls in time and place, and it is impossible to tell the extent to which the speaker may be embellishing them.  Several story lines overlap, and the two grandmothers have similar experiences in love bearing children who are not fathered by their husbands.  The shepherd who fathered Lia’s baby throws himself into a well, just as the other grandmother has done.  Both grandmothers write poetry, and the deaths of true lovers (or those believed to be true lovers) seem to happen simultaneously.  The reader does not know whether these are coincidence or if, memory being fallible, the speaker is confusing family lore and the people who experienced these events.  Then again, she could be inventing everything, following in the tradition of her two writer grandmothers.

Whatever the case, the novel deals beautifully with primal events and universal themes—the need to belong, the importance of ties to a community, the yearning for true love, the vagaries of chance or fate, the importance of memories, and the need to create.  As the generations move forward from World War II to the present, each character must protect his/her memories against change in order to preserve a sense of selfhood.  It is only the speaker who has the liberty to tinker with the past and/or the truth.  When, in the conclusion, the speaker’s own life is brought up to date, the reasons for all these memories become clear, and her need to connect with the past poetically is understandable.  Passion, in all its many forms, rules the lives of the characters here—and affects the reader, too.

Photos, in order: The author’s photo appears on:  http://bibliobs.nouvelobs.com

The 1943 destruction of Via Manno, Cagliari, where the speaker’s family home was located:  http://www.mariusesculapio.com

A World War II bunker in Cagliari, Sardinia, is one of many similar fortifications still seen here:  http://forum.axishistory.com


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