This is a novel that does the first person present tense narrative in a masterful way. Lisa Reardon is an intensely empathetic curator and guide as she takes readers on a keep-up-with-me-please look at a girl's life, forsaken by her mother when it most counts, and who is raped not only by father and older brother as a very small child, but develops a very dysfunctional yet loving common-law relationship with a second brother. I don’t want to know these people; my revulsion is strong; I want to walk away. But I can’t walk away from a characters that are so loved by their creator.
My teacher Randall Brown shared with me some notes of his from Steve Almond essays, and I was struck by how perfectly Reardon’s novel overcomes my objections and soothes my hesitation to continue reading after the first 10-20 pages. I guess this review is as much an appreciation for Steve Almond as it is for Lisa Reardon.
Almond said, the heart of a particular character must be on the brink of emotional tumult. The character, in this case the narrator Ray Johnson, must care a lot about something and this passion places him in danger over and over again. Reardon checks this box off sharply. There's a great scene at the very end when Ray will go out of his mind if he doesn't find what he's looking for, and the narration goes into run-on overdrive: "Clatter clatter Judy would you grab the napkins please dishcloth flopping on the counter no I want the red one Mommy slices of ham with beans and onions hush up now water running anyone seen Sherry little girl in a checked green dress chewing on a naked paper doll I'm out of town usually four days out of the week Ray your mother's been looking for you." It works so well -- she uses that trick only once in the novel and just where it works perfectly.
Almond also said it’s impossible to sympathize with a character unless you are embedded in their world, a world that is not composed of vagaries, but a precise set of dramatic circumstances—of which your loyal reader should be apprised. And this is exactly why I didn’t rate Laura Vandenberg’s “Find Me,” also written in the first-person present tense, as highly as Reardon’s novel. Reardon’s narrator is a fully submerged opticon, seeing in all directions and reporting what he sees, but Vandenberg’s (and stylistically this makes sense because that narrator is addicted to cough syrup) is a fog of abstract observations. But Reardon’s mile-deep scene setting doesn’t slow the narrative down.Every detail adds sympathy and moves the story forward. There’s this little character, Whaley, he’s a 92-year old man, and he’s as important to this story as Owl Eyes is to Gatsby. Come to think of it, he is this novel’s Owl Eyes. Another reason to love Billy Dead.
A final point of Almond’s that I can apply to Reardon is that the writer must love her characters at all times, and Reardon certainly does. She sends them barreling into the danger of their own desires. In doing so, on the other side of the page, I as a reader care for them to survive. As they go through life smashing things up, I feel like the deer that flies over the windshield of Ray’s car, who says “Oh no,” and is unharmed, but I’ve been given an experience by this writer that is full, and fair, and truthful.
Five stars.