✰ 2.25 stars ✰
“I started to cry, but it was a frustrated, abrasive kind of crying, and I found the more I got into it, the more it took on a life of its own.”
Probably the most accurate way to describe my overall feelings after I had completed The Night the River Wept - a title so hauntingly tragic that tragically failed to live up to the tragedy it encapsulated, due to writing that sadly did not seem to take itself as seriously as the very subject matter of which it concerned. Lo Patrick's sophomore novel follows twenty-four-year old Arlene as she tries to overcome the grief of her recent miscarriage by immersing herself as an evidence tech at Faber's local police department. 'It was like they were trying to make excuses for you. I didn’t need the excuses. I needed a distraction.' While unearthing old forgotten cases, her interest is piqued by the mysterious death of the three Broderick brothers - a death that should have shocked the small town, but somehow has been left quietly buried and unresolved for nearly twenty years - until now.
“Let me track these people down. Let me figure it out. I want to crack the case. I really don’t have anything else to do.”
It pains me even more so at how difficult it was to sympathize with the protagonist, Arlene - a young woman who starts her investigation simply to fill in the free time that she has while her real estate tycoon husband, Tommy, indulges himself in alcohol and the simple pleasures of his newly rich life to the point of increasingly antagonizing her with his less than appealing ways and to not feel the shame and hurt of not having a child to her name - a shame that is also wracked with guilt over her own past grievances that she holds herself accountable for. 🙁 It is in that pursuit of busying herself to stave off her boredom that she becomes obsessed with the unsolved murder that captured her attention entirely - driving her to do everything conceivable in order to figure out what really happened.
With the need to put some form of closure to a crime that did not resolve in a fitting manner, with the murders' prime suspect - Mitchell Wright, the boyfriend of the boys' older sister - committing suicide two weeks after that painful tragedy. In her dogged attempts to retrace the past and uncover clues from those parties that were privy to the events of that time which happened when she was very much a child herself, does she start to discover parts of her own personality and bring about changes to her own lifestyle - one that might just be the very thing she needed to not feel as remorseful over the loss of her own child. 😢
“Suffocated,” I said to myself. “And suicide. God, what is this country coming to?”
I shook my head in heavy dismay. Surely nothing like this had happened before my generation got the keys to the car.”
Mainly I think my lack of really empathizing with Arlene was how her character was portrayed - a very ambitious dreamer who never seemed to settle on pretty much anything - hopping from one context to the next, which may feel like it is her way of overcoming her own grief by having the chance to save the memory of the boys' existence to feel marginally better about losing her own. 😕 It was a bit uncomfortable to have that much focus of the story featured on her miscarriage - one that wasn't quite mentioned in detail in the synopsis, itself. It was that completely uncaring way in which she presented herself - or I guess, the writing did - at how she acted and communicated - this very self-centered and opinionated manner that made it feel that she held herself above others - 'I was the one who’d started this ball rolling.' 🙄
It bothered me how she demanded attention in a righteous tone that clearly stated that since it was her own interest in finding out the truth behind their deaths, that entitled her to be lead investigator - start up her own detective agency - derive personality traits from the women connected to the crime - it all seemed so random. 'I know they died—they were murdered!” I announced somewhere between a bellow and a shriek.' 🤨 Especially when at the start, it was only about her continuously mentioning her own loss that she felt made her deserving of sympathy - not to mention, her relationship with her husband, Tommy - one that was so plagued with ups and downs - disgust and understanding - yet clearly feeling that there really is no one else she would rather be with. Even as she traced the history, I could not care about her personally - only caring about whether or not the next reveal would lead to some traceable evidence that would finally bring some peace to those boys. 😟
“A moment is nothing more than a recollection in exactly the amount of time it takes it to pass.”
Be that as it may - I have to admit that this read was not an easy one; it has me divided on how can I explain my reasoning for disappointment, when I can even argue with myself that there is a justification for the portrayal of how the characters' behaved and treated one another - simply because it is a reflection of the backward area that they are depicting. Does that make sense? 😮💨 How can you fault the writer for writing the characters the way that they were, when they're simply being who they are - coarse and unpleasant to the point where their very actions makes them as unbearable as the way they felt about each other. The tone of the writing did not do justice to the subject; a serious matter that had very unserious writing that felt at times very jarring and disjointed.
Coupled with unlikable characters who didn't generate an iota of sympathy or compassion for what happened to those young boys, nor did it genuinely seem like they cared enough about Arlene to help her - a horrific death brushed away that mirrored the lazy and ineffectual stupor that clung to its residents. 😮💨 How do I explain my frustration over what had the potential to be a riveting murder mystery that failed to emanate the full feeling of a truly heartbreaking tragedy that had been buried for twenty years, simply because the denizens of a practically crimeless small town on the edge of nowhere, Georgia' failed to see how tantamount it was not to fully let their souls rest? It was to the point where there were certain questionable writing choices that did nothing to amplify the seriousness of the situation rather was a flagrant disrespect to it, instead. 🙍🏻♀️
“People’s tragedies are not for shits and giggles, that’s for sure,” Tommy said with an inappropriate lightness, which he quickly followed up with a belly laugh. “HaHA!”
See, what I mean? 😩 There were other examples that left me stunned and severely disappointed that had the writing been more effective in making it more serious, rather than having it feel like it was a mockery of the situation. Like, I said, it could be just to show how backward-minded this area is - and how the crime is befitting of their nature - but, I just couldn't appreciate it for what it was, considering how it all comes down to trying to bring justice to these boys whose lives were tragically stolen from them. 😔
“This was the kind of place where people kept their valuables in lunch boxes and angry family friends could become cops whenever they wanted.”
The story is told through three distinctive perspectives - Arlene, the diary entries of Mitchell's sister, and the murderer, himself. Getting a first hand account from the murderer's point of view was chilling and morbid; how it lacked any source of feeling or compassion or even remorse for their actions. I have expressed my concerns over how comical the writing was that made it difficult to really get involved with the mystery, which sadly was the most compelling part of the story. I wanted to know what really happened - I wanted to learn the truth about what happened to them. 😥 And it was in the perspective of which I was not expecting to have a surprising twist to it that left me stunned for how it wasn't something that I thought even possible, but oddly enough, it was fitting. And for that, I was glad I did not abandon it, despite how many times I was annoyed at other points. 😒
It was the ending that I started to tear up - that the story truly lives up to its name. 😢 I teared up at the senseless loss of innocence, the betrayal of trust, the vindication that lacked any remorse, the silence that cost so much, the secrets that outweighed the morality of justice, the pain that the characters felt no grief, the idea that this story could have been so much more impactful had it not been riddled by writing that failed to capture how achingly tragic the whole situation was. ❤️🩹❤️🩹 It also showed how sometimes even the right thing can be done by doing wrong - how we tend to overlook what is right in front of us, simply in order for us to cope with the past we wished we could forget. A memory that ceases to be one, once it is brought to light and one that only serves to hurt and harm more, despite how helpful it really could have been.
And yet, my mind argues that it, in fact, is such a perfect depiction of how it is that very mindset that makes it so easy to believe that this is the behavior that would befall them. 🤷🏻♀️ How society failed to help those of the poor white trash, simply because of who they were - that nobody cared enough to help them; and that was a saddening if not heartbreaking truth that made me want to weep, and applaud how tragically fitting the title was. For when all was said and done, I just felt so defeated at that realization - that even if justice is served, it did not feel like a fulfilling one. 😞
*Thank you to NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.